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JULY, 1887. 

The Canadian Constitution. By Goldwin Smith . 

Painting “ The Sbapegoat.*’ By W. Holman Hunt 

Africa and the Drink Trade. By Archdeacon Farrar 

The SaihrednesB of Ancient BuUdinga. By Frederic Hardaon , . 

Methodist Beuniou. By the Rev. William Ajiihnr 

The Franco<German Frontier di its Military|(V.8pectB. By^Major Otto WachB 
Modem Historians and Small Nationalities. By H. Morse Stephens . 

The Bngliah Workers as They Are. By H. M. Hyndman .... 
Contemporary Life and Thought in China. By a Resident in Peking . 











AUGUdJ, 1887. 

Ireland’s Alternatives. By Lord Thring li^ 

The Moabite Stone. By Ch. Clermont-Ganneau, LL.D 169 

Alexander Kn(^ and the Oxford Movement. By*. Professor G. T. Stokes • • 184 

Painting "Xl^e Scapegoat.*’ — 1}. Hy W. Holman Hunt 906 

^ Sir M. E. Grant Duff ’s Views about India. — I. By Dadabhai Naoroji . • 221 

The Progress oM’opular Music. By J. Spencer Curwen 236 

Count Leo Tolstoi. By Julia Wedgwood ........ 249 

Experiences of an Irish Landowner. By Mabel Sharman Crawford . . . 263 

The Great Depression of Trade. — I. By the Hon. David A. Wells, LL.D. • 295 

Contemporary Record : • 

Mental Philosophy. By Professor Seth ...... 294 


A Fair 'Constitution for Irelands By Sir C. Gavan Duffy* 301 

The Story of Zebehr Pasha.—!.* As told by himself«to Flora L. Shaw . . 333 

The Date of the Pentateuch : Theory and Facts. By Reginald Stuart Poole, LL.D. 350 
Fanst in Music. By Frank Sewall ^0 

The Great Depression of Trade. — II. By the Hon. David A. Wells, LL.D. . &1 

Australian Literature. By Stephen'Thompeon 401 

The Expansion of Egypt. By Cope Whitehouse 415 

Contemporary Life and Thought in France. By Gabriel Monod .... 428 

Omtemporary Record: 

Oriental History. By Professor Sayoe . 

. 448 



OCTOBEB, 1887. 

. ■ t ^ 

Afghan Life in Afghan Songs. By Professor James Barmesteter r « • 

On Praise of the Country.* By H. D. Traill, D.C.L. 

Archseology and the Date of the Pentateuch. By W. Robertson Smith, LL.D. . 

Michael Eatkoff. By an English Resident in Russia 

The Fall of Prices. By the Hon. David A. WeUs, LL.D., D.C.L. • • • 

Literature and Language. By Edward A. Freeman, D.C.L 

The Story of Zebehr PaBha.~II. As to^ by himself to Flora L. Shaw 

The Railway Question in Manitoba. By Goldwin Smith • • • • , 

Contemporary Record : ^ 

Physical Science. By Professor Wm. Game|t • ■ • » • 











NOVEMBER, 1887- 

Ulster. By R. T. Reid, Q.C., M.P. .605 

Was there a Real St. Antony the Hermit ? By Archdeacon Farrar • . . 617 

The Fall of Prices. — II. By the Hon. David A. Wells, LL.D., D.C.L. , . 628 

University Education for the People. By Professor Wm. Garnett ... 644 

The Story of Zebehr Pasha. — III. By Flora L. Shaw 658 

Realism and Romance. By Andrew Lang 683 

Sir M. E. Grant Duff’s Views about India. — II. By Dadabhai Naoroji • • 694 

Central Asia — A Military Problem. By General Sir John Adye, G.C.B., R.A. . 712 

Contemporary life and Thought in the United States. By President Charles K. 

Adams •••'. 724 

Contemporary Records : * 

I. Modem Histo^. By Regi^ld L. Poole , 735 

II. Philosophy and History of Religion. By Principal !l^irbairn . 744 

III. Social Philosophy. ByJohnRae . • . . • • *.751 

DECEMBpt, 1887. ^ 

The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin. %y Archibald Geikie, F.R.S. 
The Ui^ployed. By Bennet Burleigh .••••. 
St. Katherine’s by the Tower. By Walter Besant . . • . 

BimetaUism. By the Hon. David A f Wells, LL.D., D.C.L. • • 

The First Chapter of Genesis. By Professor Elmslie . , • 

Horses for the Army. By Colonel C. B. Brackenbury, R.A. . , 

Schools of Commerce. By Sir Philip Magnus . . . . 

The Attack on th^ Scottish Church. By Lord Balfour of Burleigh 
Contemporary life and Thought in Germany. By Professor Geff^ken 
Contemporary Records : ^ 

I Apologetic Theolo^. By the Rev. J. R. Dlingworth • • 
II. Oriental History. By Professor Sayce . • • • 











T he house iu Newman Street which Theodore Hook made the 
scene of his famoas hoax hardly became more suddenly an 
object*of public interest than has the Canadian Constitution, since the 
supposed discovery of its availabiliti| as a preQpdent for the solution 
of the Irish problem. It would have been difficulty probably, a few 
yeiirs ago, to induce any of the editors of the great English .reviews 
to accept a paper on a subject which one of them has now spontane- 
ously proposed. ^ 

The Canadian Constitution, including the political relation to the 
imperial country, may be studied in the work of Mr. Todd, a^d our 
parliamentary procedure may be studied in the work of Mr. Bourinot. 
The second has an instructive preface. ^ Mr. Todd must be read with 
a little alloVance for the immediate influences of Ottawa, where, as 
parliamentary librarian, he wrote. His perception of the usefulness 
and importance of the monarchical part of the Constitution was cer- 
tainly enlarged by his point# of view, while his criticism on some 
occasions was -disarmed. A reader of his^ book would fancy, for 
example, that he approved the whole of Lord Duflerin s conduct in 
the matter of the PaSific Railway scandal ; but it afterwards came 
out plainly that there was a part of it which he disapproved, though 
his loyalty had suppressed his disapproval. * 

The idea that Canada affords a parallel to Ireland, and a precedent 
for dealing with the Irish question, owes its tenacity of life partly to 
a confusion. People do not know exactly whether by Canadiah 
Hoftie Rule they mean the relation of the provinces to the Dominion, 
or the relation of the Dominion to the imperial country ; when they 
are shown that one is irrelevant, they think that they must mean the 
other, or that; at all events, between the two there must be some- 

YOL. LII. , B 


thing that is j^vant and instractqre. Once more let us try whether 
when thf ^^l^ins are out the fallacytwill di^. In its internal struc- 
ture the* Dominion i| a Federation^ and the relation of each province 
to the Dominion is that of an American State to the Federal Govern- 
ment. Ireland can be placed on the same footing as a Province or 
State in a federation only by dissolving the legislative union of the 
whole United Kingdom^ and changing its Constitution from that of a 
nation into that of a federation/ The two islands must be cut up 
into States^ sufficient in number^ and equally balanced enough among 
themselves^ to form fitting materials for life Federal Union ; and this 
could not be effected merely by severing the three kingdoms from 
each other and the Principality^ for the result of such an arrange- 
ment would be a perpetual cabal of the three small States against 
England. Parliament must not only contract the limits of its action, 
but resign its sovereign power, and submit to the written restrictions 
of a Federal Constitution. It must also submit, as must each State 
of the Confederacy, to the jurisdiction of some tribunal in the nature 
of a Supreme Court, by which the law of the Constitution will be 
enforced upon the Federal as well as upon the State Governments. 
These are indispensable elements of the federal bond. To fran!ic the 
Federal Constitution a constituent convention must be assembled. 
The United Kingdom will have, ij/ short, to be thrown into the smelt- 
ing-pot, and this at a moment little propitious, whether we regard 
the internal or the external situation, for the work of fundamental 
re-construction. The attempt to frame a scheme for placing Ireland 
alone on the footing of a Canadian Province or an !A.merican State, 
the Constitution of the United Kingdom being left otherwise un- 
changed, proved, as might have been expected, totally abortive. It 
was the offspring of the same Hasty ingenuity as certain contemporary 
speculations about Mosaic cosmogony and GAek mythology. If any 
one demurs to this statement, let him refer to the speeoh in which 
the scheme wa^ introduced, and see how much evidence of careful 
examination of the problem, or of anything but philanthropic im- 
pulse and sudden desire t© coalesce with the Parnellites, that speech 
presents. Scarcely had the plan been propounded when it was sup- 
plemented by the proposal, totally subversive of its main object and 
principles, that there should ^e a partial Teversion from the federal 
to the national system, and that the members of the State Legislature 
of Ireland should on certaiA occasions sit and vote in the Central^ 
Legislature, to the total confusion of the regular parties and of the 
general policy of that body. ^ 

Externally, the relation of Canada to England is not, as is always 
assumed, stationary — so that it could be reproduced as a permanent 
institution — but shifting. It is that of a dependency which is in 
progress towards independence, and has now almost .reached < the 



goal. In 1839 the introduction of responsible govemment reduced 
the royal governor to the j^sition of a constitutional king. 
Supreme power^ both legislative and executive, passed definitively out 
of his hands and those of his chosen advisers into the hands of the 
elective representatives of the Canadian people ; the Executive having 
been thenceforth, in Canada as in England, virtually elected by the 
House of Commons. Since that t^me the whole course of events 
has tended the same way. The military occupation of Canada by 
the mother country has ce&ed, or is represented only by the reduced 
garrison of Halifax. If a commander of the Canadian militia still 
comes out from England, he has little power, and the present holder 
of the ofilce, is not unlikely to be the last. Canada has been not 
only pracffcally, but formally, taken out of the commercial unity of 
the empire by a Conservative Prime Minister, who declares that in 
all fiscal matters he is for Home Rule to the hilt. She is now 
assuming the power of making her own commercial treaties, under 
the formal control of the Foreign Office. The Governor- General has 
been stripped of whatever little authority he retained after the rebel- 
lion of 1837 : he has been compelled to dismiss one of his lieutenant- 
governors, manifestly against his own sense of right ; and he has finally 
resigned his control over the power of dissolving Parliament, which is 
now openly used by the party leader in power — ^like "gerrymandering 
bilk and tampering with the franchise — for the purposes of the party 
game. A Canadian Supreme Court has been created, avowedly with 
the view of diminishing the resort to the appellate jurisdiction of the 
Privy Council. A High Commissioner — that is, in effect, an ambassador 
— ^has been sent to England, and there is talk of sending another to 
Washington. If the bond thus reduced to a thread is not snapped, and is 
even cherished, it is because Canada enjoys, or believes that she enjoys, 
free of cost,* the protection of British armaments, and because the 
feeling of Bfitish Canadians towards the mother country is exactly 
the opposite of that of the Irish. Every one feels that the thread 
may be snapped aft any moment by an untoward event, such as the 
failure of England to afford efficient protection to Canadian com- 
merce in case of a maritime war ; and those to whom a violent 
rupture with the mother country presents itself as the greatest of 
evils live in constant apprehension of some occurrence of this kind. 
It is, perhaps, the feeling that we are approaching the brink of poli- 
tical severance that gives birth to a recoil ’in the form of Imperial 
Federation, as to which it must be said, that we have now had liba- 
tions of wine and sentiment enough, and that if the Imperial Federa- 
tionists mean business, and really contemplate a great political change 
in a backward direction, they ought to lose no more time in telling 
us their mind. Canada does not contribute, nor could she be induced 

•b 2 



to contribute^ anything to imperial armam^ents ; she does not pay, 
nor could she be induced to pay> tnbute to the imperial country of 
*any kind. On the other hand^ separation from her^ as she is three 
thousand miles off^ would in no way affect the power or safety of 
Great Britain ; whereas separation from Ireland would be the aban* 
donment of part of the citadel^ with the moral certainty that France 
or some other enemy would march in. She affords, then, no model 
in any respect for a scheme of Irish Home Rule ; and to copy the 
present phase of her progress towards independent nationality, or her 
ulterior destiny — whatever it may be — in the belief that it is a 
settled and permanent arrangement, would be the grossest of blun- 
ders : it would be anchoring — like the deluded seamen in. Milton — to 
a whale. 

Canada, however, may be regarded, apart from the .prevailing 
illusion, as an experiment in federation and as an experiment in 
popular government. There has jtlst now arisen in England almost 
a mania for federalism, and, curiously enough, at the very time when 
the model to which the eyes of all Federationists are turned is itself 
in an ambiguous condition. Nothing is more certain than that, 
partly owing to the patriotic love of union aroused by the war, 
partly and principally ‘owing to fbe growth of unifying influences, 
such as railroads, commercial connections, party organizations, and 
associations of all kinds, combined with the rapid transmission « of 
intelligence, the American Republic has been practically growing less 
federal and more national, though its federal structure remains 
constitutionally unchanged. CoUgress is now in the fullest sense of 
the term the National Legislature, and, w'ithout usurpation or designed 
encroachment, is practically enlarging its functions on all subjects on 
which the nation feels the need of collective action. Thus the law 
of aggregation into great communities, which prevails elsewhere, 
asserts itself on the American Continent also, and British S.eparatists 
are rowing their boat against the tide of the age. 

The Canadian experiment in federation was made under influences 
partly similar, partly dissimilar, to those which moulded the Con- 
stitution of the Uni^d States. The American Colonies, like the 
Netherlands and the Swiss Cantons, compressed into union by 
external peril. In the case of the British Colonies in North 
America the same influence operated, but in a far less degree ; 
the external peril in this* case being .the strained relations with the 
ynited States which ensued ^pon the Trent affair, and were aggra- 
vated by the dispute about the Alabama ; though it ought to be 
borne in mind, and Americans, when they try to reopen the nearly 
healed wound of the Alabama controversy, ought not to lose sight of 
the fact, that the enlistment of Canadians in the Federal army went 
bn upon a large scale throughout the war. But the more powerful 



influence was that of thfe deadlock into which a faction fight^ with 
forces equally balanced^ had brought the politics of the two united 
but unassimilated Canadas, and from which the headers on each side • 
sought to escape by merging the politics of the two Canadas in those 
of a more extensive confederation. There had been in this case, 
happily, no rupture with the British monarchy, and the framers of 
the Canadian Constitution had beenHrained under monarchical forms 
and in the practice of Caljinet Government. They had at the same 
time before them the example and the experience of the United 
States, though the experience was by them misread. Another very 
peculiar factor in their problem was Quebec, which is, to all intents 
and purppses, ^ new France, developed, strangely enough, under 
British tutelage as it never would have been developed under that 
of the French Government. Quebec, clinging to its nationality and 
its French law, opposed a resistance apparently insuj)erable to the 
legislative union, which some of our political architects would pro- 
bably have preferred, and for a future approach to which they seem 
even to have laid the ground as far as they could in the Federal 
Constitution by giving whatever advantage they could to the cen- 
tralizing tendency. i 

The outcome I have elsewhere described is a Federal Republic 
with a false front of monarchy. The false front of monarchy which 
first meets the eye consists in a Governor-General, sent out from 
England by the head of the party in power there, and a Lieutenant- 
Governor of eaeh province, appointed, nominally by the Governor- 
General, really by the head of the party in power in Canada. Monar- 
chical forms are also retained in parliamentary procedure and else- 
where, Mr. Pell says, to an extent which is touching ; and perhaps 
he might sometimes be emused as well as touched by the reproduc- 
tion. The jsocial forms of monarchy were considerably enhanced, 
and the viceregal style was introduced in place of that of the plain 
Governor by Lord Dufierin, whose tastes lay that *way. But an 
attempt to introduce Court etiquette in connection with the visit of 
the royal consort of Lord Lome came to nothing, and served only to 
show that monarchy is an exotic incapable o& transportation to the 
soil of the New World. • • 

It may perhaps be said that the false froi^t of monarchy is useful 
in keeping up the ideas of continuity and stability, and in making 
authority the object of popular respect, though the reverence of the 
Americans for their Constitution is at least as profound, and foims^as 
potent a factor of political cl^aracter, as the reverence of the Canadians 
for their Crown. At the moment there is a rally, in which even the 
most democratic may without inconsistency join, round the Queen’s 
name, as the familiar symbol of imperial unity against dismember- 
ment. But in general, and in practical respects, the fiction seems to 



me not only useless^ but injurious!^ It veils the dangers of demo- 
cracy^ and makes people fancy that they have safeguards when they 
' have none. It makes them also acquiesce in the exercise by a party 
leader of powers which they would not dream of allowing him to 
exercise in his own name. Nobody would have acquiesced in a bare- 
faced proposal that the leader of a dominant party should have the 
uncontrolled appointment of the ^members of one branch of the Legis- 
lature ; but Canada acquiesces in this when the party leader is 
styled the Crown. We have just had a remarkable instance of the 
mischief which may be done by the illusion in the case of the pre- 
rogative of dissolution. Nobody would tolerate an enactment that 
Parliament should sit during the pleasure of the partyjeader in 
power. But this is the state of things into which we have really 
slid^ hoodwinked by the constitutional fiction which represents Par- 
liament as being called and dissolved by the Crown. Some control 
was retained by the Governor- General over the use of the power so 
late as the time of Sir Edmund Head^ who on one occasion most 
properly refused his Ministers a dissolution. But the prerogative has 
now been completely and openly usurped by the party leader. The 
other day the Dominion Parliament and the Legislature of Ontario 
had each of them morh than a year of legal existence still to run. The 
Prime Minister of the Dominion belonged to one party, the Prime 
Minister of Ontario to the other^ and they manoeuvred against each 
other with the prerogative of dissolution just as they would with any 
engine of party strategy. The Ontario Premier finally dissolved first, and 
was thereby supposed to have gained the weather-gauge of his enemy. 
In each case it was pretended that a recent Redistribution of Seats Act, 
commonly called a gerrymander/^ and an Act altering the franchise 
for a party purpose/ had given constitutional occasion for an appeal 
to the people ; but the utter hollowness of the pretence was equally 
visible on both sides. On neither side had any intention of dissolv- 
ing been announced^ and the Ontario Premier had not even prepared 
the new registers. The question on both sides alike manifestly was 
simply whether an immediate dissolution would be a good move in 
the game. Under the .Cabinet system Parliament must be dissolved 
when a disagreement betweAi the Government and the Legislature 
renders an appeal to the people necessary ; but dissolution at the 
pleasure of the party leader would seriously impair the independence 
of the Legislature. In England tradition may still control what 
would otherwise be a dangerous power ; in a colony tradition has 
little force. The bad efiect of constitutional fiction was perhaps 
still more signally exemplified when a Prime Minister^ arraigned in 
Parliament on a charge of the most flagrant corruption^ was allowed 
to advise the Governor-General to prorogue Parliament^ and 
transfer the inquiry to a Commission appointed on the advice of the 



person accused. If on this occa^on the Governor-General was partly 
actuated by a desire to keep the accused Minister in office, that did 
not mend the matter, or leiisen the force of th£ moral. 

It is perhaps as the fountain of honour that monarchy retains 

* most of the reality of power in Canada. And it is the growing 
desire of many sensible people, and people who are far from being 
revolutionary, that the fountain of honour would cease to flow. 
Titles have been confeired not only without discrimination, but so as 
to give a direct blow to^ public morality in this country. Eank other 
than official is totally out of place in our society ; the quest of it 
breeds' much sycophancy, and it does, so far as I can see, no good 
whatever. • Some of our best men, including the late Prime Minister 
(Mr. Alexander Mackenzie), have declined knighthood on these 
grounds. Rational respect for authority is what we need to cultivate, 
and irrational respect for artificial rank merely stands in the way of 
its cultivation. 

Passing from the false front to the real edifice, we find that the 
Federal Constitution, though .manifestly modelled on that of the 
United States, diflers from the model in some respects. More power 
is given to the Central Legislature and Government. This was done 
in the belief that American Secession had b(9ien occasioned by want 
of power in the Central Government, whereas American Secession 
Was caused by . slavery alone, and would not have taken place had it 
been certain that the Federal Legislature would never interfere with 
the domestic institutions of the South. To the Uominion Parliament 
is assigned the criminal law, while civil law is left to the Local 
Legislatures; a division not prescribed by reason, but by the 

* nationalist jealousy of the French province, which would not have 
parted with its Cod^ Civil, To the Dominion Parliament also 
belongs the law of marriage, and Canada has no Divorce Court except 
the Dominion Senate. In the American Union criminal as well as 
civil law, and the law of marriage, belong to the Stafes. The Prime 
Minister of the Dominion appoints the whole of the judiciary, pro- 
vincial as well as federal, whereas the judiciary of each American 
State is elected by the State, or appointed h|y its elective governor. 
In place of the elective gpvernors of •States, each province of the 
Dominion has a Lieutenant-Governor, nominated by the Prime 
Minister of the Dominion, who always takes one of the members of 
his own party, though from the time of his appointment the 
liibutenant-Govemor is supposed to doff party and don the* con- 
stitutional king, for alleged breach of which understanding Letellier, 
the Lieutenant-Governor of Quebec, was, upon a vote of the 
Dominion Parliament, dismissed from his office. The Dominion 
Government has the direct command of all the military force of the 
confederation. In the United States the Federal Government has 



no veto on State legislation^ which is merely ^ept within constitutional 
bounds by the action of the SupAme Court ; but in Canada the 
Prime Minister, in <the name of the Crown, has a veto on all pro- 
Tincial legislation. Prudence has prevented the exercise of the 
power except in cases where the Provincial Legislature was supposed* 
to have exceeded its authority ; but it is now being brought to bear 
on the Legislature of Manitoba,^ for the purpose of guarding the 
interests of the Canadian Pacific Railway, which is regarded as 
national, against competing lines charterejl by the Manitoba Legis- 
lature, and at this moment a collision between the Central Legislature 
and the Provincial appears to be impending. Canada having happily 
a permanent Civil S^ice, the number of places in J;he. gift of her 
Prime Minister is far smaller than that in the gift of the President of 
the United States. Still, his patronage, including the lieutenant- 
governorships and the judgeships, is large ; he extends it a little by 
the device of superannuation ; and party in Canada does not lack 
that great security for partisan allegiance and motor of partisan 
government, a sufScient quantity of spoils." 

There is one class of spoils, indeed, -the distribution of which the 
Prime Minister of the Dominion enjoys under cover .of a constitu- 
tional fiction far transcending in kind anything possessed by the 
President of the United States. He nominates for life the members 
of the Upper House of the Legislature, whereas in the United States 
the members of the Senate are elected by the Legislature of the State 
which they represent. The result of this theoretically Conservative 
arrangement in Canada is practicilUy the reverse of Conservative. A 
nominee Senate, without even a basis of landed wealth, such as is 
possessed by the House of Lords, or any guarantee either for its 
reasonable agreement with public opinion or for its independence of 
Government influence, has not, nor does it deserve to have, any sort of 
authority. The consequence is that, whereas in the United States 
power is really«divided between the two Houses, and the Senate, with 
perfect freedom, controls and reverses the acts of thb popular House, 
in Canada power centres Entirely in the Commons. The Senate is a 
cipher ; it initiates nothing ; it adjourns till business comes up to it 
firom the Commons, and only shows that it is alive about once in 
each session by the rejection of some secondary Sill. The salaries 
which the country pays to senators are simply wasted, and the com- 
munity is led to repose in ‘the belief ^hat it has a Conservative safe- 
guard where it has none. It^is true that the institution can scarcely 
hb said to have had a fair trial. The patronage has been for the 
inos^ part in illiberal hands, and has been systematically used for* the 
objects of party or for narrower objects still. The framers of the 
Constitution, the British statesmen who took part in the work at 
least, probably had a vision of an assembly representing the great 



interests and professions^ find eminence of all kinds, such as might 
have commanded the respect of ttie nation. They, at all events, did 
not mean that places in the Legislature should be used as part of 
the bribery fund of faction and as inducements to spend money in 
elections. But it is more than doubtful 'whether, where the basis of 
government is popular election, real power can be conferred on any 
body which has not an elective title* 

The most important, however, of the practical diflPerences between 
the CanadiAn and the Am^can system is the retention by Canada 
of party government on the British model, with a Prime Minister 
and Cabinet elected or designated by the majority in the House of 
Commons, having seats in Parliament, and responsible for the whole 
policy of the country, legislative as well as administrative. This is 
party government in perfection: it makes legislation a perpetual 
struggle between the parties for power on the floor of the House of 
Commons, renders Parliament the grand national cock-pit, and invests 
the reports of the debktes with the highest interest. It is regarded 
with envy by American believers in party government, who contrast 
it wit^j their comparatively languid system of a Presidency outside 
the Legislature, and independent of its struggles — a Congress working 
by committees, comparatively few public debates, and a Congressional 
Globe which nobody reads. If there is a leader in the House of 
Bepresentatives, it is the Speaker, who is elected by a party vote, and 
who names the chairmen of committees, but he cannot take part in 
debate. The President, who, if any one, corresponds to the Prime 
Minister, is an ei^ecutive o^cer wi^ no legislative power or function 
except his veto, and at this moment he is a non-party or only half 
a party man. This is the more notable, as the American Constitution 
may now b§ said legally \o recognize party as the basis of government ; 
the Civil Service Act, for example, providing that not more than two 
of the Commissioners shall be members of the same party. When 
the American Constitution was founded the system of a government 
by a party Cabinet was hardly established — at all events, was not 
fully recognized — in England : George III.* was still trying to play 
the patriot king, and Jto set his Government fr^e from the control of 
faction. The peculiarities, andp— from the party government point of 
view — the infirmities, of the American system are strikingly set forth 
in Mr. Wilson s Congressional Government.^^ Mr. Wilson, however, 
takes party as the law of Natnre, without examining its morality or 
its reasonableness^ without examining ks genesis historically, without 
considering on what it is permanently to rest, and without noticing 
the fact that it is almost everywhere in a state of advanced and Appa- 
rently hopeless disintegration, the parties being broken up into sections, 
each of which is too small to sustain a Government. He also treats 
the nation as a mere aggregate of atoms, most of them without 



EBy political knowledge or power df judgmfent^ rather than as a collec- 
tiye intelligence holding to the pul^ic men something like the relation 
of a creator to his creatures^ and exercising a watchful control over 
their conduct and its results. 

The Canadian Confederation is fortunate in havings almost accident- 
ally^ through its connection with the mother country^ a perfectly inde- 
pendent tribunal for the decision of suits between the Federal 
Government and the provinces^ or between one province and another^ 
in the Imperial Privy Council, to the decisions of which ‘entire defer- 
ence has been paid. The Supreme Court of the United States, 
though most respectable, is not entirely independent ; it is packed on 
great party questions, such as the slavery question aDd the, question of 
legal tender. In my hearing, President Lincoln avowed soundness 
on the question of that day as his motive for an appointment. No 
unpacked Court could possibly have decided that the Legal Tender 
Act was not a breach of the article of the Constitution forbidding 
any legislation which would impair the faith o^ contracts. A supreme 
tribunal for the decision of disputes between the Federal Government 
and States, or between States, is a vital necessity of federation, but 
one which it is very difficult to supply. Among the crudities of the 
Irish Government Bifl none was more crude than the attempt to 
make the British Privy Council a federal court of arbitration between 
Great Britain and Ireland. 

On the other hand, Canada as a dependency has no power of 
amending her Constitution. The sovereign power is not in the Cana- 
dian people : it is in a Parliameiit on the other side of the Atlantic, 
and it might as well be in another planet. The Constitution, by 
what I cannot help thinking a great oversight, was never formally 
submitted to the people, and Nova Scotia was dragged into confede- 
ration, as she avers, without any opportunity of even informally ex- 
pressing her opinion. The ignominious failure of the nominee Senate 
is not the onlj^ flaw which the experience of twenty years has revealed. 
But there is no power here of calling a Convention or setting revision 
on foot. The Constitution ought to be revised and then submitted to 
the people. In this jvay alone can it obtain, the hold on popular 
veneration which is possessed by tha Constitution of the United 
States. ^ 

Too much power at the same time is given to the Canadian Legis- 
latures, especially to those of the proidnces. It is almost appalling 
to think what changes, not (political or legal oijy, but social and 
economical, maybe made by the single vote of a Provincial Legisla- 
tai^, composed of men flt perhaps to do mere local business, such as 
comes before a county council, but hardly flt for the higher legisla- 
tion, especially since the choice of men for the local Legislatures 
liaa*4ieen limited by the Act which prevents membehi of the Dominion 



House from sitting; in It local ^House also. The laws of property, 
or the political and legal relations of the sexes, as well as tibe distri- 
bution of political power, may be changed in a night, and the structure 
of society may thus be fundamentally altered at a single sitting, and 
upon an almost momentary impulse, or under some purely sectional 
influence, by a narrow majority in* a House, the most mature and un- 
biassed judgment of which upon such questions would be as far as 
possible from being conclusive. Nor is there any effective appeal. 
In the United States they have two great safeguards against hasty 
legislation — the veto of the President or the Governor of the State, 
and the submission of constitutional amendments to the popular 
vote. 1 j£, an American State Legislature in a fit of political intoxi- 
cation abolishes the civil status of marriage, the Governor can at least 
suspend the Bill till the legislators have come to their sober senses ; 
but the Lieutenant-Governor of a Canadian province is a puppet, and 
his constitutional veto is a nullity ; while the veto of the Central 
Government upon provincial legislation is exercised, as has been 
already said, only when the Act is supposed to be beyond the compe- 
tency of the local Legislature. The submission of constitutional 
amendments to the people is a most important safeguard. The 
people, at all events, cannot be lobbied, wheedled, or bull-dozed ; it is 
not in fear of losing its election if it throws out something which is 
sdpported by the Irish, the Prohibitionist, the Catholic, or the Metho- 
dist vote. The reform is one which, if Canadian confederation lasts, 
ought to be intpoduced without delay. Every province in Canada is 
at present in constant danger of I3ie most precipitate and disastrous 
legislation. One provincial Legislature broke a will at the instance 
of parties interested in the succession who had brought influence to 
bear upon members, and the establishment of a precedent fraught 
with evil was averted only by the action of the courts of law, which * 
managed to set the Act aside on the ground, if I recollect right, of 
ambiguity. • 

If the framers of the Constitution desired that the political action 
of the provinces should be independent of tLat of the Federal Govern- 
ment, their wish ha^ been but imperfectly fulfilled. The Dominion 
parties have engulfed the provincial Legislatures ; and the same tide 
of party feeling which swells at Ottawa, pei^trates every creek and 
inlet of provincial life. The provincial party is an engine ancillary 
to that of the Dominion. The Conservative leader in Ontario the 
other day lost the battle at a general election, partly through the 
deference which he was compelled to pay in framing his platform *to 
the exigencies of his commander-in-chief at Ottawa, who could not 
afford to offend the Catholics of Quebec. In Quebec the imbroglio 
which ended in the dismissal of Lieutenant-Governor Letellier was 
^probably caused by the anxiety of his party to get hold of the pro- 



vincial patronage, in anticipation * of a Dominion election. Local 
inflnencefii do, to some extent, contend with and neutralize those of 
the federal party in the provincial elections. In the Dominion 
elections Ontario is carried hy the Tories ; in provincial elections it 
is carried by the Grits; and there is a similar variation of results 
in Nova Scotia. This, however, is partly due to the influence of 
patronage and other engines, suoh as promises of Dominion expendi- 
ture on local works, brought to bear on Dominion elections by the 
leaders of the party in power at Ottawa. The last Dominion election 
in Nova Scotia is said to have been a notable instance. 

The hope, cherished no doubt by British statesmen, that colonial 
self-defence would be promoted by confederation, ha^ provfd totally 
baseless. Canadian politicians, speaking aher dinner in England, are 
in the habit of regaling British ears with stories of an army of four 
hundred thousand men, thoroughly organized and ready to spring to 
arms. But the last report of the general in command states that 
the number of the Canadian militia is 37,000 — supposing there 
are no double entries — and recommends that the number should be 
reduced, in order that, without increase of expenditure, there, may 
be a longer term of drill. At present half the force is called out in 
each year for a fortnight. The navy consists of a single gunboat. 
It is needless to say that, however excellent the Canadian material 
for the making of soldiers and sailors may be, an army and naVy 
cannot, under the conditions of modern war, be improvised when war 
has been declared. The colony would still be almost ^entirely depend- 
ent on the imperial country for defence ; and a maritime war, cutting 
up Canadian commerce, would lay a severe strain upon the connection. 
Canada, while she wishes to assert her full rights in the Fisheries 
question, must rely on British force to mak^ them good, although 
the people of Great Britain feel little if any interest in the matter. 
This is an equivocal state of things, and one fraught with possibilities 
of misunderstaflding. 

If, however, ominous cracks are beginning — as they certainly are 
— to show themselves in Ithe edifice of Canadian Confederation, the 

fault lies perhaps not ^o much in the architecture as in the site. Let 
the Colonial Ofiice provide kself with a. map of Canada coloured so 
as to show the limits of the cultivable and habitable territory. The 
fact will then become more apparent to the Secretary for the Colonies 
that the Dominion is not a* compact mass, including the North Pole, 

but % series of detached blocbs of territory stretched out between the 
oceans. These blocks are not connected by any natural bond of 
uniotk geographical or commercial; neither kre they divided br any 
natn^ line, either of a physical or of an economical kind, from the 

n " ^ E“gl«h-»peaking races on the 

continent. Commercially, each is attracted to the portion of the 



United States immediatel|r to the«oath of it, as is seen especially in 
the case of the maritime provinces, which are now becoming restive 
under confederation, because they wish to unite themselves com- 
mercially to New England, free trade with which and participation 
in the coasting trade would be to them the breath of a new economi- 
cal life. Nor are the provinces united ethnologically : New France, 
ever growing more French and iQore antagonistic to the British 
element, cuts them in twain. A desperate effort has been made, at 
enormous expense, to forg^ an artificial bond of union by the con- 
struction of political railways. The Intercolonial Railway has cost 
about forty millions of dollars, and does not pay its running expenses ; 
still less will it pay them when the true commercial line across Maine 
shall have been completed.* It yet remains to be seen what will be 
the future of the portions of the Canadian Pacific Railway to the 
north of Lake Superior, and the portion through the mountains 
between the prairie region and British Columbia. Politically the 
provinces have been held together, and a basis has been framed for 
a Government, by means of what are called better terms ” — that 
is, further subsidies out of the Federal fund — and by a system of 
purchasing support of all kinds, and in all the ways known to politi- 
cians. The man who could most skilfully hold tibe discordant elements 
together by such means has naturally been at the head of the State. 
Perhaps the business has been done with as much address, and there- 
fore at as cheap a rate as possible ; yet it has been costly in the 
extreme, as well^as in the highest degree demoralizing. A public 
debt, very heavy in proportion to^the population and the wealth of 
the country, has been rapidly run up, while the public debt of the 
United States has been in a course of not less rapid reduction. The 
expenditure of government has also been advancing with swife 
strides, anct out of proportion to the increase of population. Ontario, 
as the riq)a partner in the firm, mainly pays the bill. Nor is the debt 
or the expenditure the whole or even the worst of it. • The introduc- 
tion of a Protectionist tariff — which to a country like Canada, with 
a limited range of production and a smalPmarket, cannot fail to be 
most injurious — must be set down to the exigencies of the same 
policy. It has called into existence % body of capitalists whose 
interest is completely bound up with that of the Government. 
Canada, which was once a cheap, is being made a dear country to 
live in, and the exodus of population is darmingly large. 

What confederation has done for th^se colonies it is very difficult 
to say. It has not given them any military strength or security 
which they had not before.' It has not given them any larger 
measure of internal peace, or a much larger . measure of freedom of 
intercourse. Military security, internal peace, and freedom of inter- 
course are the main objects of confederation, and the colonies 



already enjoyed them as members of the E|yitish Empire. Nor hais 
there as yet been any appreciable {levelopment of national feeling. 
The Nova Scotian er the New Bmnswicker does not even call 
himself a Canadian : he speaks of Canada almost as a foreign 
country. Nationality and dependence^ however, are things hardly 
more compatible with each other than Socialism and patriotism : 
the only chance of making these ^lonies a nation lay in conferring 
on them independence, which probably the English statesmen who 
took part in Canadian confederation haq in their minds as the 
ultimate outcome of the measure. The Statute-book of Ottawa, if 
cleared of Franchise Acts, Acts for the Redistribution of Seats, and 
other legislation of a merely party character, would be found to be 
a miserably poor return for the immense outlay. Debt, Increased 
taxation, a vast development of faction, demagogism, and corruption, 
with their inevitable effects upon the political character of the 
people, have hitherto been about the only visible fruits of North 
American confederation. In the newly acquired territories of the 
North-West there has been misgovernment through party agents, 
and this was probably the main cause of the rebellion. There can 
be little doubt that those territories would have fared better under 
a royal governor of tba old stamp, who would have had nothing to 
do with party or its corruption, but would have tried to do his duty 
to the people. 

Democracy in Canada set out with a society eminently sound, and 
a population which the training of ages, commenced^in England and 
continued here, had made industrious, thrifty, law-abiding, and moral 
in the highest degree. Nor was there any revolutionary sentiment 
like that which the rupture with England generated in the United 
States. The chiefs of industry and commerce have also been in the 
Dominion, as they are in the United States, men brought to the front 
by genuine qualities, with a strong commercial morality, jind well 
fitted to govern the realm over which they presided. We have, 
moreover, had British law, a legal profession instinct with the best 
traditions, and a judiciary which, though the appointments have been 
with a single exception partisan, has pretty well escaped the prosti- 
tution of patronage for mere« party ends, and forms by its respecta- 
bility and the confidence felt in it, the sheet-anchor of our commu- 
nity. There has been hitherto land enough for all who wanted to 
till it, and timber enough for all who vvanted to cut it ; while British 
capital has built railroads in abundance, rather to our profit than its 
o^n. We have, it is true, on the other side of the account, the 
French province. But the French province has hitherto been rather, 
an element of torpor, and perhaps of corruption, than of political 
disturbance^ though it is now becoming an element of disturbance 
undmr the influence of reviving French nationality and of Jesuit 


intrigue. The Irish^ in nplitical q^aracter and habits^ are the same 
here that they are everywhere elsl, but till lately their influence has 
not been greatly felt. They were discredited %nd politically weak- 
ened by the two abortive Fenian invasions^ though they did not on 
either occasion openly display their sympathy with the invaders. 
The experiment of democracy may therefore be said to have been 
tried in Canada under circumstances on the whole favourable, even 
when we take into acdbunt the special evils which an ill-ceinented 
confederation entails. Yet the result^ in the mind of one observer 
at least, is a profound conviction that, while political institutions must 
rest 6n popular suffrage, and no other basis is available, government 
by faction, dema^ogism, and corruption will not do, and cannot go on 
for ever. • 

The party system betrays in Canada the same fatal weaknesses 
which it betrays elsewhere. In the absence of organic questions, the 
list of which must everywhere in time be exhausted, no rational or 
moral line of division between parties will remain ; party becomes 
mere faction, and the struggle for principles degenerates into a contest 
for power and pelf, carried on by means not purer than the end. 
This is as inevitable as any moral consequence can be. The Cana- 
dian parties had their origin in a real and vita^ division- between the 
friends of royal and those of popular, or, as it was called, respon- 
sible government. But that question, and all the questions depend- 
ing on it, have long since been settled, and the two casks scarcely 
retain even the faintest smell of the liquor with which they were respect- 
ively filled. The*names Tory an^ “ Grit," by which they call each 
other, therefore being free from meaning, are really more appropriate 
than Conservative and Liberal by which they call themselves. Per- 
haps the Conservatives a^e a shade more favourable to the political 
connection With 'Great Britain, though it is by them that protective 
duties have been laid upon British goods ; at all events, their leaders 
are more ready to accept baronetcies and knighthoods than the leaders 
of the Grits. Yat the late leader of the Grits, Mr. George Brown, 
while in deference to the sentiments of his party he refused knight- 
hood, was a vehement upholder of British connection, and a bitter 
enemy of independencib, though his moj^ives ^ere surmised to be 
as much commercial as political.* The Tory party has hitherto derived 
a reactionary tinge from an alliance with the ^esthood which rules 
Quebec. But this connection has now been greatly shaken by the 
rebellion of the French half-breeds in the North-West, in suppressing 
which, and bringing the leader to the scaffold, the Dominion* 
Tory •Government incurred the wrath of the French Nationalists, and 
lost a number of. seats at the last election. The Grits, on the other 
hand, the very basis of whose party not long since was hostility to 
Roman Catholic encroachment, have now flung themselves into the 

s Public 



arms of the Roman Catholics, a|id becofcie defenders of separate 
schools,* and advocates of the re^^toration of the Jesuits. Their 
leader, who not ma^iy years ago was setting a price on Siel^s head, 
now denounces his execution as a political murder. For some time 
it seemed as if the question between Protection and Free Trade would 
become a new and living issue ; but just before the last election the 
Grit leaders, scared by the aspect^of the solid phalanx of manufacturers 
arrayed against them, hauled down the Free Trade flag, which had for 
some time been fluttering low on their masf, and definitely surrendered 
to Protection — too late to win any votes, yet not too late to lose some. 
In dealing with the vital subject of the franchise, both the parties 
are alike demagogic, and neither of them is Conservative. They are 
always bidding against each other in the Dutch auctioifby which 
from what was virtually a freehold franchise, highly respectable, and 
at the same time attainable in this country by every industrious and 
thrifty man, we are being brought down surely, though by a pro- 
tracted process, to the abolition of every sort of qualification. 
Probably in the end we shall come to female suffrage also, which the 
leader of the party styled Conservative advocates, in the belief, no 
doubt, that the women would vote Tory. The Conservative ^ party 
which is in power is ip fact the following of Sir John Macdonald ; 
the Opposition consists of the enemies of Sir John Macdonald ; and 
as Sir John Macdonald is a very skilful leader, while his opponents 
are much the reverse, and has all the patronage in his hands, he is 
pretty securely entrenched in office. This gives a f^lse appearance of 
stability to a party government wjiiich has really no other than a per- 
sonal foundation, and as soon as the man is gone, will, as everybody 
says, crumble to pieces and be probably followed by confusion ; for 
there is no other politician who is likely to get all the wires of a 
complicated system of influence and bribery into his hands. 

Burke, who said that vice lost half its evil by losing* all ^its gross- 
ness, might as*well have said that the breath of pestilence lost half 
its deadliness by losing its warning smell. We stand aghast at the 
coarse corruption of former days, which slipped a bank-note into the 
hand of a member of Parliament to induce him to vote for a Govern- 
ment measure; but fiobody^ stands aghast wKen on the eve of an 
election a Prime Minister calls together the representatives of a 
particular commercial Interest, and gives them to.understand that if 
they will support him with their influence and subscribe to his 
election fund, he will regulate the fiscal policy of the country in 
their favour. The rule of the old official oligarchy, nicknamed the 
Family Compact,^' which governed 'the country before 1837, is 
always treated by Canadian historians as a slough of .corruption, 
frolQ which we were haj^ily respued by the change to democratic 
government ; but the worst, so far as can be ascertained, which the 



Family Compact did was #0 give itself large assignments of public 
lands at a time when land was a nrug. The people, it is true^ were 
shocked when, by the investigation into the Pacific Railway scandab 
it was conclusively proved that three members of the Cabinet had 
exacted from the applicant for the construction of a Oovernment 
railway a large sui^ of money to be expended on the elections. But 
the moral reaction soon passed away^and things are daily coming to 
light which show that corruption has made deep inroads on our 
public life^ and that the Standard of morality among politicians is 
very low. Where there is corruption there must be agents of 
corruption, and of these too many have been seen in a quarter 
where their appearance is most ominous. Something might perhaps 
be done by a law, which if would seem perfectly possible to frame, 
treating political corruption in its various forms as a crime, and 
rendering it liable to punishment like other crimes, not in Parlia* 
ment, where a party majority would acquit Cain, but before some 
regular and independent tribunal. Nothing of the sort, however, at 
present exists, nor does the Constitution even provide a power of 
impeachment. The political character of a people generally virtuous 
may hSld out long against such influences, but in the end it must give 
way, and the moral basis of government must fsil- 

The one valid defence of party is tliat it is the only instrument 
hitherto discovered for uniting a suflicient number of the atoms into 
which political power under the elective system is divided, to form a 
basis for a Goverpment. In this respect a substitute for it will have 
to be found ; and found the substiti^e must be. Society cannot rest 
for ever on the irrational and immoral. 

If the corruption of the demagogue is bad, his weakness, I am 
inclined to think, is worse. Always looking forward to an election, 
he trembles *at the very shadow of a vote, and nothing is safe in his 
keeping if henmagines that by a conscientious defence of his trust he 
will incur the vengeance of any fraction of his constituency. Thus 
fanatical cliques * and sinister interests, which concentrate their 
political influence on their own special object, disregarding their 
duty to the community at large, exercise a power out of all pro- 
portion, not only to their deserts, but to J;heir lumbers. The worse 
citizens, in short, people are,'the narrower and the less patriotic are 
their aims, the surejr they are of carrying theif point. A body like 
the Roman Catholic Irish, who^are hardly citizens at all, but a clan 
held together and welded by their Chur^, are thus enabled to hold 
Canada as well as the United States' in political thraldom ; and wtf 
have* just seen Canadian Legislatures, both central and local, 
degrading themselves into the instrument of a Fenian opposition to 
the Crimes Bill, with which probably not a tithe of their number hikd 
a particle of sincere sympathy. In the same way,' the fanaticism of 
VOL. Lll. o 



the Prohibitionist party is slaidshly gratified by legislators, who 
laugh in their sleeve at Prohibition, and perhaps after voting for it 
themselves, adjourn^ to the bar. In the Canada Temperance Act 
the most vital principles of justice are sacrificed to the tyrannical 
will of a sect which disposes of a large ' number of votes, and avows 
that it will not sufiTer any one who refuses to bow the knee to it to 
.be elected to any public ofiSce,^^ even that of a school trustee; the 
commonest legal safeguards are set aside in order to obtain con- 
victions, hearsay evidence is admitted, arbitrary magistrates, some of 
them without even a legal training, are empowered to fine and 
imprison without appeal, husband and wife are compelled to give 
evidence against each other, accused persons are CQmpelled to. give 
evidence against themselves. The legislators, of course, see the 
injustice of all this, but they dare not stand up against the Pro- 
hibitionist vote. An upright judiciary will be of little avail if 
legislators are not true to the great principles of justice. In the 
same w:ay there is constant danger of unconscientious concession to 
the chimerical demands of labour reformers, as well as to those of 
sinister interests of a commercial kind. In . the industrial depart- 
ment we can happily look to the Conservative action of the chiefs of 
industry — ^men whose ji^alue as social rulers has already been mentioned, 
and who are raised for the most part from the ranks by sterling force 
of character as well as by commercial skill ; but there is hardly any 
economical chimera to which in time legislators may not be driven 
to pay homage by their dread of the labour vote. England herself 
has unhappily now, in this ]^spect, not much to say against 
American or colonial democracy. According to an excellent 
authority, of all the members of the House of Commons who voted 
for the Irish Government Bill not more than twenty, outside the 
Irish party, were sincerely in favour of the measure. We shall be 
obliged to introduce the ballot for legislators as well as for electors, 
if we mean the legislator, like the elector, to vote according to his 
conscience. Perhaps he would sometimes speak on* one side and cast 
his ballot on the other ; ‘but it is the vote that we- want to have on 
the right side, not the speech. 

As I write, the pfecarioi^s character of the political connection 
between Canada as a self-governing colony and Great Britain is being 
illustrated by the proj^sal of the Canadian Minister of Finance to 
add to our protective tariff an_ article excluding British iron. The 
British producer is naturally^ angry. It may well seem hard to him 
that, while he is called upon to defend the rights of Canada in the 
Fisheries question, Canada should be 'excluding his goods froifi her 
market. But the principle of Colonial Home Buie in all fiscal 
qdfestions has already been conceded. Of two tysteiqs we must' 
diooae one— that of commercial unity with a fiscal jystem for the 



empire^ or that of fiscal self-goTj^rnmeat; and whichever of the two 
systems we choose we most be prepared to embrace its consequences. 
If Canada is commercially to shift for herself^ sl!e must be allowed to 
do whatever her circumstances and her situation^ placed as she is on 
the American continent and alongside a country with a highly pro- 
tective tariff^ may^ require. What she really needs is not the parish 
protection proposed for her by her {iresent Government^ the fruits of 
which are already visible, enough^ but free access to the markets of 
her own continent ; in Other words^ commercial union with the 
United States. To the Canadian farmer^ lumberman^ and miner 
alike, an extended market is a vital necessity ; the property of all 
three is greatl/ depreciated for want of it, while admission to the 
coasting trade is the only thing which can infuse commercial life 
into the languishing frames of the Maritime Provinces, and appease 
the discontent which has been produced in them by the total failure 
of confederation, so far as their commercial interests are concerned. 
A movement in this direction is already on foot, and there can be little 
doubt of its ultimate success. ' It is opposed, naturally enough, by 
those^who have invested in the manufactures artificially called into 
existence by the protective tariff, as it no doubt will be by their 
creator and patron the Government ; but nb forces which these 
interests can muster will in the end be strong enough to make head 
agkinst the great natural industries of the country — farming, lumber- 
ing, mining, and shipowning combined. Commercial union would 
be the end of tiie Fisheries dispute, which at present threatens to 
become a perpetual sore. Commeibial union with the United States 
would involve an assimilation of tariffs, and thus, it is objected, Would 
entail discrimination against Great Britain. As has already been 
said, if we embrace the system of fiscal Home Buie, we must embrace 
it with the ^consequences. -When protective and even prohibitive 
duties arc laid on British goods, a discrimination which would imply 
no intentiopal or^special antagonism would seem to be an innovation 
only in' name. If the English manufacturer is excluded, he ia 
excluded, no matter whether the colony manufactures for itself or 
imports from the United States. 

An alarm is raised of political anne^^tion, which it is said would 
follow in the wake of commercial union. Tha^ the English-speaking 
race on this continent, divided *a century ago by the American revo- 
lution, must some day become* again one people, has long been my 
firm belief, though it is to be hoped that the re-union, when it cdme^, 
will brought about, not by annexation, but by mutual attraction, 
while nothing is to be gained on either side by precipitating the event. 
The texture of society as well as the language and everything else is 
the same, and in spite of the differences which have* been noted 
between the Canadian and the American Constitution, a Canadian 

c 2. 



proTince, if it were to-morrow made^ State df the Union, would feel no 
political 'shock, and could fit into its {dace with perfect ease. But it 
does not appear that the political question need be affected by the mere 
removal of the Customs line* Nationalities would not be effaced by 
the introduction of free trade over the whole globe. The Basque 
provinces of Spain were not made French by the liberty which they 
enjoyed under their old fuetos ofrfree trade with the Basque provinces 
of IVance. We are bidden to take warujog from the result of the 
German ZoUverein ; but the ZoUverein weuld not have done much 
for the unification of Germany without unifying agencies of a more 
potent kind, aided at last by the arms of Prussia. Already there is 
something like a currency union* between Canada And *the United 
States, American bank-notes being freely taken in Canada everywhere 
except at Government offices. This again is partly the consequence 
of the international extension of railways and of their taking fares 
in the money of both countries. Buying and selling is merely one 
of many kinds of intercourse, and intercourse of all kinds between 
the United States and Canada has been rapidly increasing of late 
years. They are so far one country that a Canadian youth thiqks no 
more of going to seek his fortune at New York or Chicago than a 
Scotch or Yorkshire ^'buth thinks of going to seek his fortune in 
London. That would be a frail nationality the existence of which 
depended on a Customs line. Not the slightest tendency has eter 
been shown by the Americans to aggress upon Canadian independence. 
Annexation, in fact, is a subject which occupies surprisingly little 
of their attention, and, whether tiie Customs line is retained or abol- 
ished, Canada is mistress of her own political destinies. That Eng- 
Jand has no political interest on this side of the Atlantic except the 
J’riendship of the whole English-speaking race, is a conviction which 
^by everything that passes here is daily impressed more deeply on my 
.•mind. Its latest confirmation is the conduct of the Canadian Legis- 
latures in allowing themselves to be used as the instruments of those 
who seek the disintegration of the imperial country. Let the advo- 
cates of Imperial Federation take warning from that incident. 

Goldwin Shitb. 


I HAVE already incidentally told^ in the last of my papers on 
ThePre-E.aphaelite Brotherhood,"* how, in the summer of 1854, 
I miClle a very interesting journey to the remote end of the Dead Sea 
with Mr. Beamont, of Warrington, and ther^ found, in the neigh- 
bourhood of TJsdum, what I determined to make the background of 
the proposed picture of The Scapegoat " (a subject which had 
much struck me when I had been searching Leyiticus for the cere- 
monies of Jewish worship). 


In October I set out again, this time without travelling companion, 
and with but one personal servant, an Arab newly engaged, who acted 
as cook and tent-man|iger. The whole country to the south of 
Jerusalem had become disturbed, with hope to the fellaheen of 
escape fronf Turkish taxation, encouraged by the withdrawal of 
the troops for the Russian War. One village was fighting against 
another; each dliy brpught worse tidings, and I was strongly urged 
to postpone the project of going alone to htay at so remote and wild 
a spot as Usdum, I resolved to go well armed, for my common- 
sense told me that, with numerous boxeEucontaining unknown properties 
and a stock of provisions, I should be the victim of the first impudent 
scoundrels I met .were it not clearly seen tlat I had the means of 
^resisting insolence. . 

I made my bargain (no light task) with Ali Tantash, the mujeteer, 
to have the requisite number of animals ready for the journey* at 
sunrise. On the morning fixed, my horse was brought with a Vrong 
saddle, and an hour of delay occurred * before the better one ordered 
could be got. Riding then to the meeting-place, it turned out that 
* CoKTiMFOBAitT Bxvixw, June 188^ p. 829. 



no luggage mules were there, the excuse giveh being that it waa wiser 
not to bring theifl to wait in the snn until I was ready, and thus I 
discovered that the object of the mukarie was to fritter away the day 
without sacrificing the claim to payment I had then to dedare that, 
whatever the hour might be at starting, I should not stop until the 
full day^s journey to Hebron had been completed. The animals 
thereupon were hurried up, and (he loading was commenced. Just 
then, aiding the purpose of the mukarie^ so heavy a storm came that 
I was driven indoors for two hours. After ,^t had passed away and I 
returned, the mule-owner and his belongings had disappeared, and 
my cases were lying in the public square. Being found, the master 
said he had concluded that I had given up the journey,, 
and so returned the beasts to the stable ; blit I was unfimcHing, and 
ordered them back. They came, only to enable us to sally out of the 
Jaffa Gate half an hour before a sunset which was dickering over 
glistening slopes. The evening was fierce, the sky still covered with 
heavy clouds, the lightning flashing, and the thunder murmuring from 
afar as we got into the open country. 

Beaching the first height, I addressed my company to the effect 
that I would go on to Hebron as fast as possible with Nicola Beyix>uti, 
my servant, to get acccunmodation at the quarantine building, while 
they should come on as soon as was convenient ; but the whole 
company were horrified — as they professed — at the danger to myself, 
as well as to themselves. I laughed at their fear, and began to trot, 
pumping out the water from my wet carpet-saddle as J rode. Looking 
back, as Nicola urged, I discoverecj the cortege with heads returning 
to Jerusalem in serious earnest. I rode back, and the muleteer told 
me to reflect how certain the peril would be from ghouls and effreets, 
who bewilder travellers on such nights, and l^ad them over precipices 
to their destruction, and that the only safety was in company ; but I 
insisted upon the journey forward, and so we came to'acqprd, and 
went on. ^ 

Beyond Mar Elyas the road, at that time, descended into the deep 
valley. I could only see the path by the pools of water in the worn 
limestone. At the bottom the strongest mule slipped and fell ; his 
burthen was too heavj^ to allow him ^o be raised as he was, and so 
the cord -was loosened and eveiy article taken off him. When 
again reloaded, the divers argued that this settled the question 
of the length of the journey. Bethlehem, half an hour hence, would 
affor^ us shelter for the nig^t, and in the morning betimes we 
cobid go on to Hebron ; but 1 insisted upon the original plan, not 
wkhaat some reluctance when the Convent of the Nativity in sight 
to our left brought to mind the thought of its pleasant hospitality. 

With us we had a young goat who was provokingly blatant; he 
walked and rode in turns, and our pn^ess was slow. An hour beyond 
the pools of Solomon we were threading the mazes of some low trees 



on tBe slippery ioad^ tod wns le^ng the paity^ when 1 noticed the 
yelling of Nicola, who was behind^ mingling itself with the bleatings 
of the scapegoat model. His reply to my cheer was very lachrymose, 
so that I had to ride back to nndmntand matters. Now he was in 
fall tears like a great baby, and he ducked his head as though to 
avoid some real attack. He was a well-grown man^ five years older 
than myself, and to see him behaving thus made me angry. ** What 
is the matter with you, O madman ? I said. " There are robbers,^' 
was his reply. " Where ? P All about us ; do shoot, I pray^ ya 

Khowagha/^ — bobbing down to the saddle all the while. I am not 
such a fool,** was my reply ; " here, I will ride behind you, and 
keep you^afe from danger." I had already taken up my place of 
rearguard when I was struck with stones in two or three places at 
once, and my horse swerved from a blow. '^Oh, oh! now I see 
what is the matter,^^ said I. The trees enshrouded men who were 
following up and pelting us. I held up my gun against the sky, 
cocked the two triggers, brought round my revolver, and shouted out, 
" Now I am ready to kill the first man who shows his head.'^ Our 
enemies held their hands, and Nicola ceased to bob his head, but he 
said aloud, Now shoot, to show you have a gun with two souls and 
a pistol with many ; " but I returned, When*I see where to shoot 
I won^t fail." We went on in silence, except that the muleteer kept 
sttfpidly saying, I told you how it would be and I was obliged to 
reply, What could be better ? Englishmen like fighting." * " That 
is true, by Allah/^ he remarked, Nicola joining in with a culminating 
sob. We plodded on, minute by minute, ever expecting a fresh attack 
as we turned in and out over the worn and wet limestone track. 
When a good quarter of an hour had passed in freedom from con- 
tinually expected attack,<,I heard a great clatter ahead, and I spurred 
on fast, but found no visible robber, only our head mule was down 
again. Ik seemed certain that this would bring on our enemies at once, 
and I undertook to keep on the alert while the men busie'fi themselves in 
unpacking and raising the poor beast. To my astonishment this was 
efiected without molestation. Our foes had probably been on an 
opposite journey, and, seeing us coming, had put themselves in 
ambush and followed us back, abandoning us when the chance 
seemed not a promising one. In starting ag^n, however, until we 
had got out of cover, we could not give up the closest vigilance. 

When the trees opened we .came within sound of villages to our 
left on the heights. No arts could muffle the noise of. our animals^ 
hoofs, nor stifle the bleatings of our kid from the ears of the dog*s, 
who provokinglf kept up a continual announcement of the passifig of 
a strange party. We had kept oflF the harder parts of the track, 

* Deliberately, I should say that history does not prove this^-in itsdif -^gasconading 
declaration to be true. No people less love war than the English ; “but being in, bear 

it, that the opposer may beware of thee,” is Ijfuutly the fighting motto Sf the race. 

2 ^ 


with my canmnt, to reduce our uc^siness, iftid we were toiling along,. 
knowing*thst it was midnight, and that for an hour or more we had 
been in that atate of a tedioua journey in which no recognizable 
difference can be expected in its features. I had quite admitted in 
my own mind that it was fortunate I had not trusted to my faint 
knowledge of the road to come on alone, and I was wondering by 
what sign our muleteer could bcrsure that he was in the road at all. 

I looked more intently to discover this, when it seemed not uncalled 
for to demand a declaration from him on the subject. No ! He 
admitted he had lost the road for the last half-hour, and had in vain 
been trying to find it. ^'What do you propose to do?^^ 1 asked. 

Dismount, ^ead part of the tent against this slope, of the rock, 
light a fire in a nook where it won’t bd seen, get coffee^ sleep for 
three hours^ and go on again before sunrise. There is nothing else 
that can be done/' No one had any other counsel, and 1 had to 
weigh this with my own thoughts. 

Curiously, the same thing had occurred on the previous journey to 
Hebron about the same place and time. On that occasion I had a 
more self-possessed servant, one Issa, with me, and 1 had taken a very 
decided course. I had put my horse's head to the village on the hill, 
and, making all accompany me, I had ridden straight up to the place, 
leaving my man to do all the active part, I playing the character of 
the mysterious dignified stranger, which was very difficult in the 
midst of barking dogs, so wild with excitement that they jumped up 
into my saddle. Men, women, and children, scared out of their sleep 
from around fires by the unwonted event, stood up and hurried to- 
gether to watch the action of the sheik when I asked for him. What- 
ever his motive, no one could have behaved better. He called a man out 
from the crowd and ordered him to go with us over the hill to a point 
on a path from which we could see Hebron and descend by it into 
the road ; and thus I had had good reason to approve the trusting 
course. The^ earlier journey had taken us, by a road between walled 
vineyards, to the town of the faithful patriarch by ‘about one or two 
o'clock. We there turfied aside to the right to reach the quarantine 
building. My man had colhe up abreast, md we were talking as 
tired guards will after an aijixious watch, when 1 noticed that his foot- 
track gradually led him up above me. The slope was slippery. I 
searched for a place irhere there might be firm footing for my horse. 
In the penumbrous dulness 1 discerned a mass of white rock leading 
to the higher level. I set my horse to grip it with his feet, and 
heeled him to make him use his full strength. The stone proved to 
be 4oose, and began to rattle down. ' 1 could feek the poor beast 
overbalancing. As the one chance for both of us, I threw myself off 
on the upper earth to the right as best could be. I pushed my gun 
away in a safe direction, for it was loaded and still half-cocked. The 



horse hurtled orer on Iks back^^and rolled down the indine. I 
found myself safely landed hdf way up, but with my leg badly 
bruised. My gun had happily nbt exploded. When we went to the 
poor horse he was just able to get up. We hobbled to the porch of 
the quarantine building, and there with hasty arrangement I threw 
myself on to my mat and some dry baggage, and soon sank into re- 
poseful slumber. Two or three how^ later I was sitting up staring at 
and being stared at by, a crowd of men, women, and children, 1 
seeming very like what a gipsy caught located in a place not intended 
for vagabonds might be. I had attained my object, however, which 
was to be soon after sunrise at a point to the west, on the mountains 
looking down to Doora by the valley of the upper and the nether 
springs g^ven by Caleb to his daughter, with the plain and Beersheba 
beyond ; and accordingly, with a hasty cup of coffee, I mounted my 
man^s horse and rode off alone to work on a sketch. 

On the present journey, however, 1 had no such object ; and 
although I revolved in my mind the importance of establishing a 
character with all my troop, on this difficult journey, of being a bad 
master to trick, as 1 had done by the previous counter-move, 1 was 
content to-night to say, that, having arrived at the precincts of Hebron, 
in consideration of the tiredness of all the beasts, I would be satisfied 
to rest where we were till sunrise ; and so accordingly we half pitched 
the tent, and I hailed welcome sleep in an unknown field. In the 
morning it proved that the road was not far away, and in an hour we 
were passing through the streets of Hebron to the open country on 
the south-east. It was not noticea}>le to me in broad sunlight, as the 
people of the town looked up from their business and the Arabs of 
the fields went out with their flocks or passed on their journeys, that 
they were stirred by any unusual excitement. Getting out from the 
houses again, I could feel nothing now visible between me and dim 
fate. Iji the wilderness of Ziph (becoming more declared at the 
descent from every fresh hill pass, while all the shadows of the rocks 
disappeared as the sun rose to the zenith, removing their sense of 
shelter), in eiChilaration of spirit produced* by perfumed sea breezes, 
I could realize how natural was the ^ous feeling kindled by a life in 
the wilderness : " My soul thjrsteth fqr Thee* my flesh longeth for 
Thee in a barren and dry land where no water is.^^ No life, it 
seemed to me then, could so well awaken a sinse of absolute reliance 
upon the unseen powers as tips of the sitent wilderness. 

In the afternoon I arrived at the encampment of Aboudaouk, the 
sheik of whom I was in search. When my tent was pitched, I sfint 
word that I was expecting a visit, and as he approached up the* slope 
I stepped out to welcome him. He had a long face, with large teeth 
somewhat projecting above a long but retiring chin, and as he 
neared me, looking his afiablest, I could not help thinking how like 



a mule he was. I had to adopt English tone of pre^occupation 
with Nicola^ to make sure that the sheik should not expect me to fall on 
his dirty person and^iin Arab fashion^ embrace him. When he was ' 
seated on a raised mat at my door^ after delivering my message of 
greeting from the consul^ I unwrapped from the parcel a jabbah, a 
coat of the brightest scarlet^ and placed it on his shoulders so that 
the contrast with the vivid colour made him look more grimy than 
ever as he sat there. Going on with my part of the ceremony, 1 
wondered whether the good Omar looked so polluting when the 
patriarch, giving up the keys of Jerusalem, said aside, Surely this 
is the abomination which maketh desolate/\ 

When we were again seated, I explained that the ^English consul, 
Khowagha Finn, had charged me to bring 'this coat to him as a mark 
of his esteem. He — as behoved him in the face of the whole tribe 
outside, men pressing one another in a circle and veiled women from 
tents, watching their sheik in his new glory — adopted the bearing 
of ntter unconcern, folding the garment under and about him on 
the ground as though Ke were accustomed to ha\^e a new coat every 
day, and certainly nothing seemed to me more likely than that he 
would by to-morrow make it but little distinguishable from his other 
raiment. After due assurance that we were respectively well and 
happy, that Mr. Beamont — ^who had been with me on the earlier 
journey — was so also ; that he had gone on to Damascus ; that 
the son was also well and happy ; that the consul was this also— 
with AlamdUlillah uttered after each assurance of good — and that 
they all hoped that he was well pnd happy, and that they were all 
very superior people, and that they thought him a very superior 
person ; and, after he had had his pipe charged several times, and 
coffee in small cups given to him to satiety, I ventured to introduce 
the business question, my servant, of course, helping me with his 
Arabic, for there was the extra difQculty with them of an unfamiliar 
dialect. * 

Combating the proposal that the question should be left till to- 
morrow, 1 said that I should like to go down to Usdum for some 
weeks, perhaps five or six, to make a picture ; that I wanted some of 
his men with me as "guides c and caterers — that two or three would 
be enou^. 1 left the number to him. What should I pay him ? 
Oh, for his part, the^ whole place was mine; he hoped I should 
always stay. But, pressed further, he said, by AUah, what I asked 
was ,no light matter. It filled him with anxiety. He/ must send 
dbwn at least a hundred men, his most trusted men, for the place 
was Inost dangerous, being the road of various tribes, and without a 
large party how could he guard me if I stayed there day after day ? 
He would do his best to persuade' his men to be satisfied with five 
hundred English pounds. And the men within hearing said, No, 



no ! Never, never ! Imjk>Bsible I y And th^ went on to point out 
how it was almost out of hope that any but a few could ever return 
to their families. I left them to talk themselvei out. When done^ 
they asked my reply. 1 said, We will talk of it no> more* It was, 
1 see, a foolish fancy mine. I will return to-morrow and go to 
Masada, Engeddi, Marsaba, or Jericho instead. I can understand that, 
because 1 had thought of returning jto a place which few travellers 
visit and none revisit, you think me foolish. It is enough. Let us 
talk no more about the j^oposal. We will speak of other matters. 
Will you tell me how many men you have in your tribe ? " He 
then said, Why should you be angry ? You do not answer me. 
Why don’t you talk of Usdum ? ” Look ! ” I said, it is not far 
away ; half a day would brihg us there. It is the wretchedest place 
in the whole' world. If I had not already been there I should know 
this from books. England is a beautiful country — a garden with 
wide rivers like that in Egypt, and trees bearing lovely fruits, and 
there are oxen and sheep, and birds in abundance, and perfect 
roads. You talk as though the plain of the Dead Sea were a place 
that God was pleased with ; it is, on the contrary, one with which He 
is kncfWn to have been very angry. You treat of it as though it 
were a paradise. Five hundred pounds ! Welk perhaps a lord would 
give some large sum to stay in a blessed pkce, but not a para to stay 
?n a cursed one. I am not a lord. I am more like a monk or a 
derwish. I would go there just to explain to people in England (used 
too much to blessings) how terrible is a place accursed of Heaven ; 
but, if you and your men do not ^want me to go, I shall take it 
as a sign that Allah wills me to work elsewhere. There are many 
places where Arabs or others would like to be paid for guiding me, 
and I would go to their country instead The sheik replied, But 
you see I must send many to guard you,^^ " No/' I replied, I only 
want to bp gtiided, and to have provisions -bought from the nearest 
Arabs. Send few or many, I will guard myself.” "Well,” he went 
on to -say, "what* will you give?” After some fencing, my reply 
was, " I speak with English words, the first* is the last ; I wiU give 
seven hundred piastres ” (about six pounds), A shriek of execration 
followed j and I said, " I am so^ry. I i^ill go •back and tell other 
frangis not to come here and vex you with the wish to visit your 
district. In the meantime, Nicola, you can bfing me my dinner.” 
And I got rid of my company. ^ • 

An hour later the sheik came to smoke a pipe and drink coffee 
with me. It was dark. The noises of sheep being folded and of 
clamorous children had ceased ; barking dogs and braying asses alone 
broke the resonant silence. He had been persuading his men to take 
one hundred pounds; would I say "Finished”? "No ! only seven 
hundred piastres,” and that I would pay in paper, writing a note for 



Utke money if be agreed, and bis ^en, aft^r being at Usdum, sbonld 
return with me to Jerusalem, where, at tiie Consulate, gold should be 
given in exchange, r Before sqparating, he had come to my terms, and 
I had written the cheque for the money, with which he retired. 

When I was alone Nicola came for a consaltation* I had inno- 
cently advised that, to make it serve the purpose of the tribe better, 
the animals, fowls, eggs, cheese, &c., wanted for our expedition 
should not be purchased from sources nearer home ; and now, finding 
that we were destitute, without later chqjice of providing ourselves, 
they asked five and ten times the just price. The next morning, 
rising an hour or two before sunrise, I announced my intention of 
riding back to procure provisions, which frightened our hosts into 
reasonable prices. Then came our sheik'^and sat down, asking when 
was I intending to conclude the business. What business ? ** 
" What, as sheik, am I to have ? * The seven hundred piastres all go 
to the men, and for all my trouble in making them friendly to you 
surely I ought to have a handsome sum.” Had time been of no 
value to me it is possible that I might have escaped this ingenious 
extortion ; but after a long and hot talk I was glad to abate the 
sheik’s demands to about four hundred piastres. 

While contendingethus with the^ evil, I saw Nicola putting aside 
the animals bought for our purpose, with their legs tied, on an 
opposite slope ; around these, men had assembled, and hideous boys, 
nearly black, naked, and with bare crowns, shaven save for one 
central black tuft of matted hair forming a tanglfd inverted tassel, 
were jumping about and screecjiing like little demons ; the fathers 
were proud and encouraging. 1 went into the midst, and found 
what enters into my memory for ever when I come upon passages 
inspired by the temper of the French philosophers about the innocence 
of the unsophisticated children of Nature. The little fiends were 
with stones and sticks directing scorpions up to the side of the help- 
less beasts, and provoking the reptiles to sting I The incident filled 
me with wrath, and I scattered the little crowd with my koorbash^ 
whereupon from afar thb men asked why I was so angry. The sheik 
came, assuring me of his utmost indignation with the boys and the 
men too, all of whoih he bpat in sl^ow, and when I declared that I 
would not have one of these with me 1 was appeased. 

. II. 


It vas late in the morning vhen all vas prepared and we mounted 
and turned towards Usdnm. Our whole company, it was amusing 
to see, was now increased by only five'. The wonderful scene ironnd 
scarcely soothed me from the feverishness caused by my experi- 
ences ^ last night and the mommg. As 1 rode ahead a young Arab 
^ about twenty eame up and kissed my hand, saying that he hoped 



I was not angry with him\ I coul^ not recQgniaaa him as an offenderj 
and 1 asked his name. His name was ^^Soleiman^^; would I let 
him be my son ? he then asked. I agreed^ although I was only 
seven years his senior. Even my prejudice did not prevent me from 
seeing that be had a pleasant face^ and I could not keep my scowl 
when he asked my name. Hunt he declared to be no name, and 
Holman he regarded as but very |jttle better — ^but William, pro- 
nounced Wullaum, he found very good; this thawed me entirely. 
When we got to Wady Zu^a Tahta would I take him alone with me 
across the plain to the sea, to where I should do my drawing each 
day ? he asked. And it was agreed. I was glad to practise Arabic with 
him, and a little onward I dismounted to fire my double barrel and my 
revolver af chance marks foi' the unavowed object of edifying the com- 
pany. Farther on, when riding with the sea down below in front of 
us, I asked whether he knew why it was called Bahr Lut.^^ He 
looked ignorant, and asked, Why was it, ya Wullaum ?" and I told 
him the story of the destruction of the four cities of the plain, 
of the escape of Lot and his daughters, and the death of the wife, 
with the appeal of Lot that Zoar should be spared because it was 
Zoriah (small). He knew of no ruins about — De Saulcy had declared 
the discovery of such — except the dilapidated (castle in the wady to 
which wc were going. Except for a few acacia-trees, growing in the 
dry course of the storm stream which we were following, there was 
no sign of vegetation anywhere. The uplands were gradually 
declining before t^ls. To the left we saw only ranged ridges bordering 
the course of ravines descending to the bed of the sea. To the right 
there were other heights with openings through which we could see 
towards Wady Aka bah. In front was the deep ghor, with, the 
bluest of lakes in the hoUow, and beyond the amethystine mountains 
of Moab in the afternoon sun. I was too much occupied with the 
scene to (alk! We came rather abruptly to the brink where the two 
torrent beds divided, leaving a high rock, on which was built the 
castle, apparently of Middle Age work; it had, as I had seen at 
Masada, painted signs of the zodiac decoratiifg its walls ; these seemed 
recent. It was at the foot of this uninhabitable castle that I was to 
live with my troop. I went ^ down fijst. While the party were 
comihg .down the very slippery and steep pathway and taking posses- 
sion, I was making my plans with Soleiman. '*^And we soon set oflF, 
taking the picture case mounted on a donkey to the place of work, 
I counting upon getting first records* of the sunset on the spot. 
We took with us also the white goat. All our party were busy 
eettihg up the tent. • 

Not a sign of humanity was before us, glance where we would over 
the extensive plain and mountains. Getting out of the defile, we 
turned slightly to the right to reach the spur of Usdum, about one 

80 " 7HB CO^fTEMPOiaitr 

mile and a lialf away ; a firrlong beyond tW point I made my way 
to the ihaTgin of the sea^ soon leaving my man toatay vrith the ass. I 
strode about the hasd sti^ding ground to find the best site ; wandering 
afar on the salt shallows, I made a jump over some wetted strand to a 
firm-looking piece of drift. It proved unsound, howev^. I found 
myself sinking in the mire, and my next step betrayed me lower still. 
As I struggled, a favourite s^ory heard in my childhood, of my 
mother^s cousin, who had seen the veritable pillar of salt into which 
liot’s wife had been turned, came into my mind. It told how in 
escaping from some terrible danger he had nearly got swallowed up 
in a slime pit. I threw myself down to grasp with my arms a firm 
support, and this quickly enabled me to reach a solid ridge again. 
Having determined against certain spots, I now had only to choose 
between one or two which I had kept in reserve, and to study the 
goat’s manner of walking over the insecure ground, noting the while 
the tone he assumed. I then planted my case in its place, uncovered 
the canvas, and tried the composition, noting the relative turns of all 
the component parts. Sofeiman, when unemployed, nearly destroyed 
my gravity by sitting down exactly in front of me, in utter bewilder- 
ment, staring intently into my face. 

In an hour I was- steadily at work ; my man kept repeating the 
inquiry whether I had finished, but I could not talk. Every minute 
the mountains became more gorgeous and solemn — the whole scene 
more unlike anything ever portrayed before. Afar all seemed of the 
brilliancy and preciousness of jewels, while close by rll of this was salt 
and burnt limestone, with decayed trees and broken branches brought 
from far distant lands, from roots still perhaps growing on the banks 
of the rivers which in the winter flood the la^. Skeletons, too, of 
animals, which had perished for the most part in crossing the Jordan 
and the Jabbok, had been swept here and lay salt-covered, so that 
birds and beasts of prey left them untouched. It was a most appro- 
priate scene fbr the subject, and each minute I rejoiced more in my 
work. While thus absorbed Soleiman shook my afm and said, " Ya 
Abbi, fe el magrib (My father, the sunset has come) ; and then he 
grew quite out of patience, and added : In fhe dark how can we 
escape danger ? In the light I can detect men from afar, but when 
the sun" has gone, as ,we go home, I can^t see if they hide blhind 
trees to shoot us, an^it is being known that they fear most." My 
reply was : My son, be obedient an|i patient till I have done my 
work ; the fear of robbers and murderers won’t make me leave it. 
Iteep silent until I am ready, and then I will tell you, and we will 
hurfy back to the tent," 

When the stars were beginning, to appear, I removed the caution 
to silence from the head of my son, who was almost in desperation 
by this time. I tied up the umbrella and shut up the painting and 



mj paint-box^ while SoleVman led^up the donkej* We then together 
balanced the case on the creatoress back^ and with a rope, ready 
placed, secured it in due balance ; thus acquitte4 of preparation duty, 
we trudged back, not without trace of ill-humour in my companion. 
Sut an Arab soon forgets discontent if you tell him a tale, and by 
the time we got to the opening in the cliff we were the best of 
friends. Here one necessary precejition was to observe silence our- 
selves, and to prevent our donkey from braying as we approached nearer 
to the encampment. TKp last my son effected by a timely cuff, or 
sometimes by covering the creature’s nostrils with his cloak. 

When we had got so close that we could see the figures about 
the fires and hear the talking, Soleiman turned to me solemnly and 
whispered* to me to take hiS abbia, and hold the ass^s halter and im- 
mediately smother any cry that it might raise its head to make ; when 
I was prepared, he went along crouching, and as he got forward I could 
just see him taking to hands and knees. There was a pause, during 
which the talking was more audible, and then I heard the salutation 
of the new-comer, the welcome, the inquiry, and at last the call to 
me that all was right. This reconnaissance was made to ascertain 
that ^he encampment had not been taken by a hostile force during 
our absence, in which case escape for ourselves Jby another way might 
have been possible. I was glad, on approaching, to see the Arabs with 
a fire, made by the root of a white tree-trunk which had been left by 
the torrent, and not less content to see my own fire with Nicola 
presiding over a ^avoury mess. Water had been drawn from a cistern 
near at hand, and, after ablutions, I was ready for meal, coffee, 
and pipe, which latter 1 indulged in on this journey quite as an 

When resting myself I was impressed by the solemn silence reign- 
• ing around,* broken only by the cries of night birds and of wild beasts 
dwelling in the upland caves. Before retiring to sleep, I sallied out 
with my gun to scale the nearer heights. The moon was still low, but 
bright, and, as I looked down on my home, the scene was the wildest 
that could be conceived. -Salvator Rosass rdtreat in the Abruzzi must 
have been tame in comparison. Down below, the illuminated tent 
stood at the foot of the high crjig on which wai^ perched the tower o 
the little castle; our fires flickered upon its walls, and faintly, on the 
cliffs to right and left ; the moonlight touched into pearl and ebony 
the upper parts of the gorge which the fires did not colour. My 
impulse was to begin a drawing, but 1 might thus have hazarded the 
completion of my painting, and so I returned to the tent and slejft 
notwithstanding the chattering of Soleiman, who was explaining the 
events of the day to his companions. 

I regard the man who has not sojourned in a tent as one who has 
not thoroughly lived ; it enables one, as nothing else does, to realize 



the early stages of man^s history, and to se^ what is his true relation 
to silentfNature ; but that night the time soon came when the dis- 
tance between me ai^ my friends was i^moved. Sleep, if not death, 
can vanquish distance, 1 was again, with all of the old set, in England 
talking of plans and thoughts beloved of both. My dreams kept me 
with the brotherhood, but waking I held out my hands, as it seemed, 
while I was tom backwards acrqss the dark sea and the lone hills, 
and I found myself at home again in the little tent pitched in the 
wady, where angry beasts still howled theij* wrath a^ut me. 

It waa not yet daylight, but it was time to be ilp to make prepa- 
ration for the day ; so I enjoyed my ablutions, while the breakfast was 
being prepared and the donkey loaded, Soleiman making his arrange- 
ments to accompany me for the day. 

Opposite, on my right, was a bluff of alluvial soil deposited evidently 
in successive drifts ; we had noticed the same formation at the foot 
of Masada and along to Engeddi. Wherever it bad been disturbed 
below by wind or water the particles above had fallen, so that the 
outer lines were all vertical ; and yet particular strata stood out in 
horizontal projections or hollows, giving a singularly architectural 
look to the masses. -Here, at a corner, the superincumbent pressure 
had hardened the cen^^es of support and left intervening spaces loose, 
and these the winds had carried away, leaving a gallery with pillars 
holding up the heavy roof; so like to the manner of an Indian 
temple was it that it was difficult at first not to regard the structure 
as the work of man, and not at all difficult to conclude whence the 
Hindoos had derived their type of architecture. Many other geologi- 
cal wonders there were for my half-informed mind, which, not being 
of an artistic interest, I do not note here. 

Soleiman and I again set out — it was soon after sunrise — to the 
place of work, meeting and seeing no one in all the great range « 
before us day after day with two exceptions, to be told of later. 
Descending at the foot of the gorge into the deeper plain, it was 
curious that at a level like that of water, but perfectly unseen, 
recognized only by the Ih'eathing organs, we met with a thick atmo- 
sphere scenting of fir, juniper, pitch, and who knows what beside 
combined? Walking backwards and ^forwards "it always was percep- 
tible at "the same level. Below were fiies like^house-dies, but dwarfish 
— so innumerable thab on opening one^s lips unguardedly to. speak, 
as many as twenty would enter together; and when partridges 
offered themselves among the puderwood for my cuisine, the ereatures 
q£ l&eelzebub that were disturbed by raising arms and gun were 
numerous enough to make the birds quite invisible at the critical 
moment. At first I apprehended great hindrance fro^ these pests, 
but for some reason, never quite intelligible, to me, no fiy ever 
bothered me when once I was seated under .my umbrella. 



I had plannft d all liy work so carefully the preTious evening — 
marking in the shadovs and noting the tints — that, although the 
effect was^ till past the middle of the day^ quite (^ifferent^ I was able — 
counting with certainty upon a cloudless sunset to correct all — to 
lay in my day’s work boldly. But it was important, with the 
quickly drying paint, to complete every atom that 1 had undertaken, 
and to have time to spare to make jiecessary notes for the morrow. 
My son set down the leather water-bottle in the shade within reach, 
and wandered about — com'^ng back at lunch- time, when we ate together 
of dried fruit and bread, and then I was free to talk. I scarcely ever 
left the spot, even for a few yards, knowing how precious time was, 
more so than was professed, for it was certain that my men, although 
engaged to stay longer thcfn would be needful, would only with great 
tact and luck be kept quiet long. As the sun went down again 
Soleiman urged my departure, but I was unyielding. At dusk, when 
at last I gave the sign, and we lifted the case on to the ass^s back, 
that animal proved to be full of fun; and when he found both our 
hands engaged he slipped out of the way, leaving us with our burden 
in the air. It was provoking to be thus treated more than once, and 
when at last the work had been done and my paint-box fixed on to 
the load, I felt the dews of evening suspiciously chilly. It was not a 
place to disregard such admonitions, and so I kept no restraint on 
my impulse, but, making my gun my partner, I waltzed about fifty 
or more yards onwards. When I halted, Soleiman seemed possessed 
of some terrible secret. I became concerned ; he approached with 
arms uplifted, and, when close, threw them about my neck, saying : 

Before, you were my father — ^henceforth let me be your brother. 
I had no idea you were so great ; you dance like a derwish — are 
you one ? Can you do it again ? Yes, ya Ahooi,^^ I said, and away 
I went a second and a third time — indeed, often on the way back 
till I had no more chill. We arrived at our cheerful home, and soon 
it became more gay, for during my dinner I could tear Soleiman 
recounting my exploits as a* derwish, and there were frequent yells of 
delight. When my coffee was brought, Nicola told me that the 
Arabs desired to have an interview with me, and I invited them at 
once. Sitting down at the do^r, with the cust<Jmary salutations done, 
and after I had given them tobacco, the elder repeated what Soleiman 
bad said, and theq asked me if I would do them the favour to come 
out and dance. I felt obliged to decline,* pointing out, however, that 
if any wished to see me dance tiiey might come down the next evening 
at sunset ; but they pleaded that the tent could not be left without 
danger, and I could see they* retired greatly disappointed. • 

Some of these men were of the most perfect intellectual appear- 
ance. Some had heads in form quite worthy of Melanchthon or Lord 
Bacon ; but, after careful personal watch and inquiry of Nicola, I found 

VOL. LII. . D , 



that the only manner in which they had exhibited superior intelligence^ 
during their fortnight's stay with us^ was in stealing the sugar out of 
our canteen. c 

The next day my brother was full of excitement about the simple 
event of last evening. " Ya Wullaum/^ he said, "the sheik has no 
-son. I am his nephew, and on his death 1 am to be sheik. Let 
Nicola go back to Jerusalem; he is not good; we don^t want him; 
but you stay with us always. The sheik has a daughter of right age ; 
you shall marry her, and you shall be sheik before me. You shall 
lead us in our raids and battles, and when we are in peace and 
encamped you shall be our derwish and dance to us. We have 
arranged it, and so let it be.^^ I wished to avoid wounding the good 
man^s feelings, and my reply was : " My brother, I have a father 
and a mother in Bellud Inglese, and I have promised them, if God 
wills, that I will return and take the picture of this place with me. 
How can I make their hearts sad by staying here ? " But/^ he 

returned, " you can make the paper speak ; write to say that we 
want you to be our sheik, and let Nicola take the picture to England 
— ^he is not good.” While I still combated his arguments, feeling, 
perhaps, that by giving me time to think over the proposal my 
obstinacy would givecway, he inquired where I was born, and then 
what was London — was it a mountain or a plain ? In return to my 
explanation he started, saying, "Not a city — not like Jerusalem, 
with walls and gates and shops ? Never, ya Ahooi, I will never 
believe that you are a beJladi — a citizen — never ! , I know you are 
an English bedawee^ and you we^e born in a tent.” I lost consiefer- 
ably in his estimation by refusing this honourable origin. 1 think 
he disbelieved me, for he still harped upon his project. All his^ 
stately proposals, with prospect of overcoming neighbouring tribes,, 
dislodging the Turks from Judea, restoring the Jews to their long- 
lost kingdom, and general settlement of the Eastern Question, would 
have been tenipting even to a peaceful P^.B., but I saw two terrible- 
marplots in the way of the romance — one in Napoleon III., the other 
in the English Foreign Minister — so I slept in peace, leaving the work 
of bringing back the Jews to some one mo^e equal to the task of 
establishing the KingMom of^Peace without violence. 

Nexf day, to my surprise, I beheld a man in the shallows scraping 
up salt, and he astonished me further when he < calmly maintained 
that he had an established* right to t^ke it from the spot ; but we 
persna-ded him to accept a few piastres and go elsewherci which he 
did quietly, and without further consequences — we never saw him 

My man entertained* me with a story of how, with a Frank 
traveller at Petra, at a critical moment, when the Arabs there were 
about to rob and maltreat him, he, my brother^ had arrived and 



rescued him^ using his drawn sword very freely, and so saved the 
Khowagha^s life. It was told with great storm and fury of action ; 
and as the Edomites have a very bad charact^, and are not a bit 
ashamed of it, it was a pleasure to be assured that for once some of 
them had been punished. 

Day after day thus went on, one much like another, but when Sun- 
day arrived I was in doubt whether ?would work. It would have been 
a delight to have a holiday^ to read David’s early psalms in the 
wilderness of his refuge, to*go searching among the valleys and hills 
to recreate my soul ; but our provisions were getting low, the lazy 
Arabs would not, although I gave them gunpowder, go out to shoot 
game, and there Vas clear ^prospect therefore of coming to a speedy 
termination of my stay here ; so I concluded that it was my 
duty to work. In about nine days I began to be poorly, partly 
perhaps through the food. The doctor had provided me with 
medicine against fever, but not against other ills. I could not leave 
off work, and must eat what there was. I determined, therefore, to 
rely upon a small wine-glassful of arak, the only strong drink we 
had ; I took it with hot water when in bed, and slept so soundly 
that ^;he goat came in and overturned everything for food without 
waking me, and in the morning I was quite well. 

Soon now the mountains, the sea, and the middle distance on my 
Cdii'Vas were completed, and I was beginning to feel more indifferent 
to the grumblings of the men. We had procured, with my last coins,, 
chopped straw and other food for the animals, and rice for ourselves,, 
from a village towards Petra. I wast gradually working down to the 
salt foreground, and one afternoon when Soleiman was away I was^ 
pondering on the present state of desolation of " the way of the sea,” 
when^y brQther appeared, looking more impressive than usual. He 
crouched down beside me, put his hand out to the cliffs towards 
Masada, and uttered the portentous words : “ There are robbers, they 
are coming this way — one, two, three, on horseback, and two — wait,, 
three — yes, four on foot. They have not yej seen us, and soon they 
will be behind Usdum, and we shall be able safely to move. You 
must put down your umbrella ; shut up your picture, cover it with 
stones. They will not be here for an hour. We will go up in the- 
mountain; they will keep along the road at the foot. We will come 
back to the picture when they have gone by.” I could see the party 
very far away.. I asked, how did he know they were robbers ?' 

They are always robbers when the others are feeble ; it would* be 
useless for us to resist. Quick,” he said. Perhaps they belong to 
a friendly tribe.” " They do not,” he groaned^ “ Oh, come.” No ! ” 
I said, I shall stay at my work.” He implored me to listen, and 
finally stamped, saying “ Your blood be on your cwn head ; as for 
me, I shall go to the mountain and hide myself.” As he went away 



he turned two or three times^ and again appealed to me, like a man 
at his wits^ end. “ Why stay ? What do you trust in ? " I replied 
unaffectedly that mihe was a good work^ that Allah would help me, and 
that I was content to accept whatever might be the issue. And so I 
saw him run to the break in the mountain near, and with the ass 
climb up its roughness, and disappear like one fearful of trusting to 
further second purpose. * 

I tried not to paint the less firmly or effectively, in having need to 
turn my head occasionally to watch the progress of the " Deeshman.^^ 
Before they had quite been cut off from observation by the intervening 
side of Usdum I could see, what I at first doubted, the correctness of 
Soleiman^s counting. When they were hidden there was a long 
silence. My brother made no sign, and there was nothing to do but 
to progress with my work as well as possible. As the time wore 
away I was anxious for the denouement, and I was glad to be 
able at last to decide that it was beyond fancy that I could hear 
the Arabs — the horses^ and the men^s footsteps among the shingle. 
I suspended my painting, and looked from beneath my iimbrella, until 
suddenly they emerged within five hundred feet of me ; they all halted 
and pointed to me. The horsemen had their faces covered with 
kufeyiahs and carried long spears ; and the footmen had guns, 
swords, or clubs. They stood there some two minutes, and then 
turned out of the beaten way direct to me, clattering among the 
large and loose smaller stones at a measured pace. I continued 
placidly conveying my paint from palette to caiivas, steadying^ my 
touch by resting the hand on thn double-barrelled gun. I knew that 
my whole chance depended upon the exhibition of utter unconcern, 
and I continued quietly, as though my studio had been of .the com- 
monest sort. ** 

Suddenly the whole party drew up, the leader thundered out, 
** Give me* some water.^^ I turned and looked at him frOm head to 
his horse^s feet, and then very deliberately at the others, and resumed 
my task without saying, a word. And then again he spoke, ^^Do you 
hear ? Give us some water.^^ After turning to him once more, with 
a little pause, extending my right hand on my breast, I said, I am 
an Englishman ; you are an Arab. “Englishmen are not the servants 
of Arabs ; they take Arabs for servants. You are thirsty — it is hot. 
The water is there — I will out of my kindness let you have some, but 
you must help one another ; 1 have something else to do,^^ and I 
turned again quietly to wor£. They muttered together in conclave. 
Presently the leader again spoke. Are you here all alone 

No,^^ I said, " I have Arabs of the tribe of Aboudaouk waiting upon 
me." " W'here are they ? " ^^Well, some are with my tent and 
animals in the Wady Zuara, but one comes with me to stay all day." 
They looked about while they handed the bottle from one to another 


and drank. And then again the speaker said, " We should see him 
were he here/^ ^^But/' I said, ^^he saw you coming when you 
were at a distance, and, being afraid, he went to the mountain to hide 
himself.^' At which my questioner said, Call him.^^ I looked at 
him very gravely, and said in a convincing tone, " But I don^t want 
him.^' The reply was, " We want him.” "Well,” I added, "then 
you call him ; his name is Soletman^ After a little discussion, the 
strangers seemed to see reason in the argument ; and the plain echoed 
with the name — familiar t(!^ Arabs as that of the imperial wizard over 
Nature — but no response came. There,” they said ; " there is no 
one, or he would answer.” My explanation was that I had before 
said he was afrai^, that they best knew what, under such circum- 
stances, it^was needful to speak, and accordingly the name was again 
shouted, with solemn pledges of amity. Presently a voice was heard 
with demands for further assurances of safety, and then my brother 
stood up from behind a rock, and gradually he came down, bringing 
the donkey back with him. He advanced direct to the men with 
salutations, and he kissed the leader and the others ; and they 
returned the kiss, and began to talk, each stating his tribe. When 
the ceremony was over, the horsemen dismounted ; they formed a 
circle, they lit pipes, and sat down to talk. 

To the first questions put, I heard Soleiman reply that the tent was 
guarded by one hundred of his tribe, some of whom were always 
coming down to us ; that I had bargained with the sheik to stay a 
month or two ; that I had been on the spot twelve days ; and what I 
did- on arriving. "What does he come here for?” was asked. 
" He comes,” said Soleiman, " each *day from the tent at sunrise, and 
stays till sunset writing on that paper with his coloured inks taken 
out of those bottles.” " Ah ! ” was muttered, " why doesn*t he stay 
in England*, and leave our country to us ? ” Who can say,” 
returned my brother , " why frangis do what they do ? ” " True,” 

said the speaker ; " has he any arms ? " That which he holds in 

his hand,” said my brother ^ " is a gun with two souls, and I have seen 
him shoot large and small lead with it. Birt under his coat he has 
a pistol, which will shoot, not twice only, but as many times as he 
likes without reloading, for when I have asked whether it would fire 
again he has gone on to five, and then* put it away ; and f knew it 
would still shoot.” ^ " But why did he stay here when you went ? ” 
" He said that he trusted in Allah.” Then came the muttering of 
some of the attributes. " Does he ever talk ? " While he writes 

he will not talk, but when coming here, eating, and going home, his 
words are many.” "What 'does he say?” "Many things;* he 
told me why this sea is called Bahr Lut.” " Tell us ; ” and Soleiman 
commenced giving my history of the wickedness of the people of the 
four cities of the plain, of God s wrath, of the visit of the three 



angels to Ibr&him at Mamre, of his pleadings, of the reception of 
two by Jiut, of the flighty the death of the wife, and of the over- 
throw by fire of the four cities, so that no man knew where they had 
been, and of the escape to Zoar. The history was much embellished 
by the rich Arabic of the narrator. After a pause he went on to 
describe my dancing, until it was evident the strangers had many 
weighty problems to resolve. 

For a time there was no sound but that of smoking. Silence was 
broken by a new speaker, who said, in a smothered voice, I want to 
talk ; and his fellows invited him to do so. His address was thus : — 
** The Khowagha is a magician ; he has books in* his own country, 
like other Franks, which tell him all things. He has learnt about the 
four cities ; they were of course magnificent towns, full of ^silver and 
gold, and riches of a\l sorts. He came before with his two friends 
to look ; they could not find the places of the cities ; they knew that 
we Arabs would not let them search and dig, and so he returns once 
more with a large paper, and on it he writes, as Soleiman says, the 
sky, the mountains, the plain, the sea, and even the salt. He had 
the white goat led over the ground to charm it ; when done, he will 
take the paper to England. And with a sponge he will wipe out the 
coloured inks, and at the bottom he will find the four cities, wherever 
they were, and he will become possessed of all their riches." The 
suspended breathings were resumed with a groan. ''It must be 
so," all said. Then came questions as to my further stay. 1 had 
not said a word yet to Soleiman of my leaving before the stipulated 
term ; and what he* said was of a kind to make them think 1 should 
stay, however hurried, another wdek or more. Very low conferences 
ensued, until at last it was resolved to leave me. They had some 
calculations in their head, but I still went on with my work as 
though I had no thought of them. 

W. Holm/ln Hunt. 

(To he continued next month,) 


A ERICA has been the last of the great continents to disclose its 
jLjL secrets to the pioneers of civilization ; but in this century, and 
especially in the last sixty years, it has done so in all its regions. 
A host* of travellers — starting from Egypt, or from the Cape, or 
from Zanzibar, or from St. Paul de Loanda — ^have traversed its 
breadth, and penetrated far into its interior. Its vast waterways 
and inland lakes have been explored. The basins of the Niger, 
the Congo, and the Zambesi have been opened to commerce ; and the 
Nile, for the first time since man was, has been •traced to its hidden 
fountains. Many have cherished hfgh hopes that now, at last, might 
be addressed to the Dark Continent the words — Arise, shine ; for 
thy light is come.^^ 

Nothing* can be loftier than the ideal of Christianity ; nothing 
more beautiful than the aspirations of that love for man which 
Christianity inspires. Might not everything which wgis blessed and 
hopeful be anticipated from the combined influences of civilization 
and the Gospel ? Had not England learnt^ by fatal experience, how 
easy it is to commit irreparable crimes against the helpless childhood 
of the world ? Had liot primeval races perishef}. before the advancing 
footsteps of her sons, like the line of silbw when the sunlight reaches 
it ? Might not many tribes and nations be Snumerated which, in 
the last two centuries, have either ceased Jo exist, or have withered 
into despair and decrepitude, ^mply from having been brought into 
contact with the vices and diseases of European races, and fropi 
having found those vices and -diseases to be agents of destructioi\ far 
more potent than could be counteracted by any advance in intellectual 
or spiritual knowledge.? Is it not strictly true that the footsteps of 
the Aryaii man, as he has traversed the globe in his path of commerce 



and conquest^ liave been footsteps dyed in blood ? And might it not be 
anticipated that — ^in the nineteenth century at least — we have become 
humane and noble enough to have profited by the disastrous lesson ? 

There was a furthef reason why we might have felt high hopes for 
the future of the African tribes in particular. Africa has been the 
chosen field for the exertions of the Christian and the philanthropist. 
Some of our noblest explorers have been animated to their heroic 
efforts — ^not by the desire for fame, not by the enthusiasm of disco- 
very — but by motives of the purest pity. , It was the aim alike of 
General Gordon in the Soudan, and of David Livingstone in Central 
Africa, to put an end to the iniquities of the slave trade. In the 
centre of tfie nave of Westminster Abbey is the grave in which lie 
the remains of David Livingstone — carried by his faithful blacks 
during an eight months^ journey to the coast, and identified in 
England by the marks of the lion^s claws upon his arm. That grave 
attracts universal attention ; and on it are inscribed the last words he 
wrote in his diary, before he closed his eyes — with none but black 
faces round him — in his humble hut at Chetamba's village, Ulala. 
They are : All I can add, in my solitude, is : May Heaven’s rich 
blessing come down on every one — American, English, or Turk — ^who 
will help to heal this open sore of the world.” That open sore was . 
the sl^ve trade. And under those words is the text : Other sheep I 
have, which are not of this fold : them also I must bring, and they 
shall hear my voice.” 

We are proud — and justly proud — of the integrity and generosity 
of our fathers in abolishing the slave trade, and in being willing to 
pay £20,000,000 for enfranchising the slave. In all our 800 years of 
history there are on our Statute-book no nobler acts than these. 
No Englishman refers to them without a glow of pardonable satis- 
faction ; and among foreign writers they are the theme of unmingled 
eulogy. The men who toiled and suffered in the cause 6f the slave 
are rewarded With cenotaphs in our national Valhalla. There we 
read how Zachary Macaulay, '^during a protracted life — ^with an 
intense but quiet perseverance, which* no success could relax,* no 
reverse could subdue, no toil, privations, or reproach could daunt — 
devoted his time, talefits, fortune, and all the energies of his mind 
and body, to the service of the most injured and helpless of iqankind 
and how Granville Sharp, ‘^founding public happiness on public 
virtue, desired to raise hid native country from the guilt and incon- 
sistepcy of employing the arm of Freedom to rivet the fetters of 
Bbndage, and established for the negro race the long-disputed rights 
of Ifuman nature.” It is added that, in this glorious woA, having 
triumphed over the combined resistance of Interest, Prejudice, and 
Pride, he took bis post among the foremost of the honourable band 
associated to deliver Africa from the rapacity of Europe*^ ^ 



Can it be believed tbat we, the sons of the generation which 
achieved these noble ends, and made these worthy sacrifices, have 
been so little true to their memory as to iufiipt on this unhappy 
continent a curse far deadlier than that which our fathers successfuUy 
laboured to remove? Such, if we may trust the most abundant and 
the most varied evidence, is the plain fact in all its naked ugliness. 
If those who are animated by th^ enthusiasm of humanity have 
ventured to believe tbat, taught by past experience, we should make 
our presence in ^Africa at# any rate, an unmitigated blessing, those 
hopes have been cruelly and shamefully blighted. The old rapacity 
of the slave trade has been followed by the greedier and more 
ruinous rapacity of the drink-seller. Our fathers tore from the neck 
of Africa a yoke of whips ; Ve have have subjected the native races to 
a yoke of scorpions. Our fathers conferred on that vast and hapless 
continent a most precious boon ; we have more than neutralized the 
boon by the wholesale introduction of an intolerable bane. We 
have opened the rivers of Africa to commerce, only to pour down them 
that raging Phlegethon of alcohol,^^ than which no river of the 
Inferno is more blood-red or more accursed. Is the conscience of 
the nation dead ? If not, will no voice be raised of sufficient power 
to awaken it from a heavy sleep ? Chatham called upon the Bishops 
to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn, and the Judges to 
'nterpose the purity of their ermine, to prevent the atrocity of a nation 
availing itself of the tomahawk of savages. Are there none of 
sufficient authority now to wield the mighty enginery of the moral 
sense against the devils work which is being done by the con- 
scienceless greed of the drink traders,^^ and to storm that Quad- 
rilateral which, as the Echo rightly said the other day, is forti- 
fied by the^ fourfold combination of ignorance, habit, appetite, and 
interest ? 

Many jeSrs ago, in Mr. Buskin's house at Denmark Hill, I was 
sitting at lunch opposite to Turner's magnificent andaWful picture of 
the slave-ship. I could think of nothing else, as I gazed spellbound 
at those waves incarnadined with sunset anJ horrible with the scene 
of murder. And as J was trying, to take in the full awfulness of the 
moral protest which the picture embodied, l?fes," said Mr. Buskin, 
" that is Turner's sermon against the slave tradg." Is no artist great 
enough, or deeply-moved enough, to preach such a sermon against 
the worse, because more plausible, more • seductive, more creeping, 
and more destroying shamefulness of tho drink traffic, which ineviijpbly 
involves not only the demoralization, but even the sure if slow 
extinction of native races ? At any rate, those who read the evidence 
here adduced are bound to refute it, ’or if this cannot be done — as 
indeed it cannot— to admit that, unless immediate steps be taken to 
undo the hiischief which our carelessness and our prejudices and our 



sacrifice to th6 mean doctrines of political expediency have caused^ 
we shall atand wholly inexcusable before God and before mankind. 

The results of th§ drink trade under its present conditions are 
horrifying enough and sickening enough at home. In the limits of 
one London parish, little exceeding 4^000 souls, I have personally 
witnessed how, from year to year, drink is the cause of assault, of 
burglary, of prostitution, of incest, of suicide, of horrible cruelties, 
of children dying like flies, of the beating of aged women by their 
own drunken sons, of the trampling and' maiming^of wives by the 
loathly ruffians whom they call their husbands, but whom drink 
maddens into fiends ; of well-nigh every crime on the dark list of 
the calendar except the direct shedding of blood, apd even of that, 
except that the poor miserable victims “ die so slowly that none call 
it murder." All this, in the most literal sense, I have seen going 
on at our doors, under the tery shadow of the Abbey, and within 
bow-shot of our great Houses of Legislature. And when I look 
from the narrow limits of one drink-afflicted parish — in which yet 
the temperance agencies are exceptionally active, though unavailing, 
against the temptation of glaring public-houses in every street — 
when I look over the world from China to Peru, I find everywhere 
the hideous evidences of the curse caused by drink. It causes tens 
of thousands of premature deaths ; it is the most prolific parent of 
all kinds of disease ; it is the commonest cause of fatal accident^ ; 
it yearly produces a widespread infant mortality ; to it is due the 
most abject and the most degraded pauperism. In the words of the 
late Duke of Albany, it is “ the only deadly enemy England has to 
fear.^^ It is the curse of the poorest ; the curse of the most miser- 
able of our youths ; the curse of every home of which it takes hold ; 
the curse of our young colonists all over the globe ; the curse of 
every nation and race with which we come in contact ; the curse of 
universal Christendom ; the curse which more powerfully than any 
other impedesc the progress of Christianity ; the curse which dogs 
from land to land and from clima to clime the course of European 
civilization. The reiterated proofs of these facts are patent ' for 
every one to see. We do not invent them ; we only point to them. 
No one can escape from his share in the responsibility for this bad 
state of things, by the cheap, stale, and irrelevant assertion that 
temperance reformers use such intemperate language ; " for we 
refer them, not to anything which we have said, but to the neutral 
annals of the past, to the caigeful paghs of contemporary history, to 
the ^colourless records of justice, to* the statistical testimony of 
unbiassed and official witnesses, to the Slue Books of the Leg^sla* 
tore, to the Reports of Convocation, to the narratives of all classes 
of travellers, to the often unwilling admissions of traders and 
physicianB. And yet, in spite of all this black and damning^vidence, 


the ooBscience of men of the worid, the conscience even, of professing 
Christians^ is not only callous, but hard as the nether millstone to 
the guilt and national disgrace which these facts involve. 

The idle, the indifferent, and the interested seem to think that 
God can be mocked by decrepit jests and immoral sophisms. When 
one hears such gibes repeated for the millionth time, one feels 
induced to cry with Cowper— • 

Well spoke]^ advocate of sin and shame. 

Known by thy bleating, Ignorance thy name ! ” 

Those who care nothing for the anguish of mankind, groaning under 
a curse which Mr. Gladstone, in full House of Commons, described 
as more deadly, because more continuous, than the three great 
historic scourges of war, famine, and pestilence combi ned,^^ think it 
suflScient to say, Because thou art virtuous shall there be no more 
cakes and ale?". They forget that Shakespeare puts that question 
into the mouth of the most despicable of his sots, and that, as in his 
Cassio he shows us how drink can ruin a noble mind, so in his 
Caliban he prefigures with prophetic insight the demoralization by 
drink of the lowest races. Have* we no fear lest some even of these, 
if w^ suffer them to recover from their drunkenness, should exclaim 
of our representatives — 

“ What a thrice-double ass 
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god 

' And worship this dull fool ! ” 

Thus much I could hardly help saying on the general topic; but 
my immediate suoject is not the curse of the drink trade in general, 
though it seems to me one of the worst proofs of our national 
■degeneracy that no effectual steps are taken to restrict it, and that, so 
far, against a spurious liberty and base vested interests, righteousness 
and companion and morality have lifted up their voice in vain. It 
is my narrower object to point out the effects of the drink trade in 
one singlS continent. Eiv uno disce ovanes. What is* said of Africa 
might be said with equal truth of jnany a tribe and nation all over 
the world — of Hindostau, of Burmah, of Ceylon, of parts of China 
to which we have access; of the North American Indians, of the 
Maoris of New Zealahd, of the aborigines of jnany lands. It is a 
tremendous indictment, which it would 1)e a guilt to bring if it could 
not be substantiated, and which it would be aisin not to bring if it 
can. Christ flung' the offender against the innocence of his little 
ones, with a millstone round hi& neck, ii^to the sea. Does He care for 
individuals, and does He care nothing for demoralized and perishiivg 
nations ? Does He care for -the few, and is He indifferent ta the 
criminal destruction of many, committed for the sake of gain ? Is 
there to be so awful a sentence against separate offenders, and none 
upon the guilt of empires ? Is it worth no more solemn consideration 



than such as may be involved in the venting of a platitude, or the 
reiteration of a jeer, that we have put the stumbling-block of our 
iniquity before the face of God^s little ones over all the world ? 

The evidence which I shall adduce only exists in various scattered 
Blue Books, pamphlets, and newspapers, and I summarize it here in 
the hope that thus it may arrest a more widespread notice. It has 
been gathered by our missionaries 'and travellers ; and the noble zeal 
of our great temperance societies has done ijjbs utmost to make known 
the facts. There are some who are ill-informed enough to sneer at 
the action of those who are called " Temperance Reformers ; but it 
is enough to quote respecting them the single evidence of Lord 
Shaftesbury, who, with all the weight of his vast experience, said that 

but for temperance associations we should be immersed in such an 
ocean of immorality, violence, and sin, as would make this country 

That the drink trafiSc is becoming to Africa a deadlier evil than the 
slave trade is a statement which may startle some readers, yet it is 
most certain. It is deadlier in its incidence, and wider in the area 
of its pemiciousness. No one will dream of regarding Sir Richard 
Burton as a temperance fanatic, yet in his book on Abbeokuta,’’ 
after speaking of the ravages wrought by rum and war, he adds : 

“ It is my sincere belief that if the slave trade were revived with all its 
horrors, and Africa could get rid of the white man with the gunpowder and mm 
which he has introduced, Africa would be a gainer in hapjnness hj the exchange'^ 

And here is the testimony of an extremely able native gentleman, 
from whom I shall make severjil quotations — the Hon. the Rev. 
James Johnson, the native pastor of the island of Lagos.* In an ^ 
eloquent speech, at the memorable meeting held on March 30 at 
Princess Hall, he said : I may perhaps be allowed to refer to the 
work of emancipation. Many hundreds and thousands of slaves 
were set free, giving joy and pleasure to many a heart. ‘ The work, 
however, in *^^hich your interest is now being solicited is a far 
greater work than that. (Cheers.)* I say greater, b^ause the work of 
the past was to deliver tKe body of the slave from the grip of the 
slave-dealer, but the work we have to do now is fo deliver the mind, 
the body, the soul, the^ spirit Ihe native race from the power of the 

great European trader^. The work we are now trying to do affects all 
the races of the world, and I should like to see, as the outcome of this 
meeting, a strong movemenit for the sijyppression of this traffic among 
native races. I represent here to-night Africa — a country with a 
pdpulation of over two hundred millions. This country, so Ipge, 
with* a people so numerous, lies at the mercy of the traders of Europe, 
who are flooding it with drink 

* Mr. Johnson c^e to England as the representative of the Christian natives of 
lAges, to plead their cause before Parliament. Lagos is a small island on the West 
Coast of Africa, and the key to the Yoruba coimtry. It has a population of 75,000 souls. 



And again^ before a meeting of members of the House of Com- 
mons in the committee-room on April 1, 1887, he ended his 
speech by saying : 

“ The slave trade had been to Africa a great evil, but the evils of the rum trade 
were far worse. He would rather his countrymen were in slavery and being 
worked hard, and kept away from the drink, than that the drink should be let 
loose upon them.” ^ 

And here is the verdict of an able and well-known American 
newspaper, the New York Tribune of July 18, 1881, upon the ruin 
and demoralization which our drink trade is causing : 

Perhaps the most striking and in every way shocking case cited by Mr. 
Hornaday is that pf the native chief whose clear sight and patriotic spirit led 
him to banish rum from his territory, and whose protective measures were made 
futile by the manoeuvres of a scoundrelly English trader who smuggled the liquor 
into the country. Think of the monstrous hypocrisy of so-called Christian 
nations, vaunting themselves on their enlightened civilization, pretending a 
desire that the Gospel should be carried to all peoples, and then invading the 
Dark Continent armed with the rum bottle, and in cold bloofl debauching and 
ruining its people. On the one hand are the missionaries. On the other hand 
is the rum of Christendon. Free rum against a free Gospel ! It is to be 
feared that Mr. Hornaday is right in prophesying the success of the former. 
Biit« what this letter shows most clearly is that unless the moral forces of 
England, America, Germany, and Holland are organized and applied to put 
an end to the outrageous and abominable state of Hungs on the Congo, a fev) 
years will suffice to rot the heart out of the Africans, and their further develop- 
ment will he made impossible. What is being done out there in the name of com- 
merce is a world-crime of a character so colossal, of an immorality so shameless 
and profound, that if it could he regarded as a type and illustration of nineteenth 
century civilization, it would be necessary to denounce that civilization as a 
horrible sham and a conspicuous failure! 

And once more, Mr. Joseph Thomson, F.R.G.S., the well-known 
African traveller, said in an address before the Manchester Geo- 
graphical Society : 

“ The jiotdrious gin trade is a scandal and a shame, well worthy to he 
classed with the detested slave trade. We talk of civilizing the negro, and we 
pour into his unhappy country an incredible quantity of gin, rum, and gun- 
powder. ^ 

“ The trade in this baleful article (spirit) is enormous. The appetite for it 
increases out of all proportion to the desire for better things, and, to our shame be 
it said, we are ever ready to supply the victims to the u/amost, driving them deeper 
and deeper into the slough of* depravity, f uining tlieir body and soul. The 
time has surely come when, in the interests of our natiinal honour, more energetic 
efforts shouldbe made to suppress the diabolical traffic. There can be no excuse 
for its continuance, and it is a blot on Christiaji civilization.” 

I will now show what we are doiifg in Africa, north and •south 
and. east and west ; and will then briefly comment upon it. 

i. Of Northern Africa I shall say but little. MahomedaniW is 
strong there ; yet we have the tprible testimony of Mr. W. S. Caine, 
M.P., to the harm done in Egypt by the drink supplied to English 
.troops, and by European capitulations. He said at Prince’s Hall : 



The native races of Egypt are being demoralized. We did not ori^nally 
take the drink there. I have no doubt it was there before our occupation, 
and before we undertook the joint government with France ; but it has terribly 
increased since then, 20,000 troops were sent there, who gave a great stimulus 
to the drink business. Nearly all the conspicuous public-houses in Egypt 
bear English signboards : ‘ The Duke of Edinburgh,* * Queen Victoria,' 
* Peace and Plenty,’ ‘ The Union Jack,’ &c. All the great public-houses are 
branded with English names. They do not alone sell liquor, but deal in 
even a more disgraceful vice than that. Each of these public-houses is a 
centre of vice and iniquity of the deepest dye. made careful inquiry as to 
what was the effect upon the native races of Egypt in consequence of the sale 
of intoxicating liquors in Egypt. I find that wherever our army had gone 
up the Nile the liquor trade had followed it ; that when they had left the 
stations where the public-houses were established^ the public-houses remained. 
Where there had been five or six of these Haunting pdblic-houses which 
never existed before, there they still remained" after the soldiers had gone. 
Who buys the liquor new ? Why^ the natives^ whom^ I am soiTy to soy, the Biitish 
soldier has largely taught to drink. It is the commonest thing in the world 
for the British soldier to treat his donkey boys to intoxicating liquor. I 
rode on a good many donkeys, and became acquainted with the boys in charge 
of them, and found that the demoralizing influence of the feritish tourists 
on these boys was something terrible. Wherever the Englishman comes in con- 
tact with the natives he drags them down through intoxicating liquors, I went 
to a temperance meeting — the only temperance meeting held in Cairo — except 
those in the barracks for the soldiers. That meeting was a large one, 3(J0 or 
400 people being present. Every one of the speakers were natives of Egypt, 
and speeches were made in Arabic, which I am sorry to say I do not under- 
stand, but T had a good interpreter. Nearly every speech was in denunciation 
of Englishmen, Levantines, and Europeans, and Christians in particular, for 
bringing this accursed drink to them. They were urging Mahomedans, w^hose 
religion forbids them to drink, to sign the pledge, as we do, here. That alone 
is evidence of the truth of what I am saying. I was moved on this subject, 
and went to see the Khedive about if. I found him an enlightened, philan- 
thropic man, sincerely anxious for the welfare and happiness of his people. 
He said that he bad viewed with grief and shame the increase of public-houses 
in Cairo and Egypt since the British army of occupation came. I asked him 
W’hat he would like to do. .He said he should like to prohibit the sale 
altogether. He was a prohibitionist. His religion told him to be so ; it was 
an article of his creed. He said, ‘I am powerless.’ I said, *WKy1’ He 
replied, ‘ There are capitulations or agreements which have been entered into 
between the Turkish Government and other Powers fcflr the protection of 
European traders, and under these capitulations this liquor is forced upon 
them to sell without control, and so cheap, that you would hardly credit me if 
I gave you the price.’ They import cheap spirits froifi Hamburg with a duty 
of 9 per cent. ; and you Kn get dmnk for 2|^., and some of the natives for less. 
If I had one thing made%nore clear than another by social reformers in Egypt, 
it was this fact, that a native once beginning the drink becomes a drunkard 
almost immediately, and nothisg brings him back.” 

In Egypt and the Soudan tBe prohibition of drink by their prophet 
his been a powerful deterrent, but it has been as ineffectual as the 
warnings of Scripture to save dark races from a temptation which, 
though to them it is absolutely fatal, Js deliberately thrust upon them 
by the representatives of a higher and a Christian civilization. 

2. In Sovfhern Africa our drink has done a yet more deadly work. 



Mr. J. A. Froude has told ns that, at the beginning of this century^ 
the Kaffirs and Hottentots were strong and flourishing peoples ; now 
they are decimated, degraded, and perishing by drink. This testimony 
is amply supported. Of the Kaffir, Mr. Wheelwright, of Newlands, 
Cape Town, says : •• 

“ Especially amongst the raw Kaffirs there prevails a habit of spirit-drinkin^ 
(Congo brandy, Cape smoke, Natal rum, •and like abominations), and as the 
cheap and vile compounds, concocted for their peculiar benefit (?), are under 
no restrictions as to a terrff of bonding, they are supplied to the unhappy 
native reeking with fusel oil, and, especially in the Diamond Fields, create a 
mortality which would be appalling if the figures were attainable^ * 

Mr. N. de Jersey Noel, of Kimberley, says that the natives 

largely succumb *to drink Tyhen it is put in their way. The natives 

employed in our diamond mines are terribly demoralized by dHnhJ^ 
Professor the Rev. N. J. Hofmeyer, of the Dutch Reformed Church, 
says : traders of the lower sort have been, and still are, the means of 
inflicting an unspeakable amount of misery upon the natives. If they 
take to drinking brandy, the craving for it soon becomes uncon- 
trollable. In a short time all their cattle are sold for the purpose of 
buying brandy ; they then become thieves^ sinking to even deeper depths; 
lose health and strength^ and miserably die. The drink traffic in South 
Africa means ruin and death to the natives. In 1883 it was officially 
reported that in two months 106 natives had been killed by brandy* 
drinking. How many daily pine away and die under this curse all 
over South Africa, of which no human record is kept ? What a day 
of retribution is a^/aiting the white man .... except he repent and seek 
the good of the race which he is now destroying for lucre* s sake ! ** 
Three years ago the Cape Parliament appointed a Commission on 
the Liquor Traffic ; and here are one or two items of the mass of evi- 
dence it received. Let the native kings and chiefs speak first. 

Getewayo, ex-king of Zulus : Do you think it a good thing to allow the 

unrestrictetl sale of brandy ? — It is a very bad thing, and i^ould ruin the 

Slaulelo and Fingoe headmen of Peddle say : Stop the canteens ; that is 
where our misfortunes come from.” • 

W. S. Kama and his councillors say : Our wives go to the canteens and 
drink. They will throw away their clothes and are naked. They are be- 
coming lost to all sense of decency. '' The wl^te man r ust stop from giving us 
brandy if he wishes to save us.” j 

Petrus Mahonga and Sam Sigenu : “ This brandy is destroying our nation.” 
Mankai Renga, a Tembu headman : “I think the people ought not to be 
allowed to purchase brandy at all. • It is killing the people and destroying the 
whole country.” • 

.Umgudlwa, Mangele, Sandile, Vena, Sigidi, Sitonga, Ngcengana, Tembu 
headmen : “The canteen destroys the people.” • 

Chief Dalasile’s proposals : 8th. Dalasile also begs that the Government 
will strenuously prohibit the sales of brandy in his country.” 

Mak^ and al^ut sixty other headmen of Idutywa : “ We do not wish to have 

* See “ British and Colonial Temperance Pongreisa,” London, 1886, p. 209. 



canteens among us. A canteen ruins a man : brandy destroys our manhood. 
We say we are happy in this country because there are no canteens. . . . 
Brandy is a fearfully bad thing. We would become wild animals here if it 
were introdu('.ed. If we had brandy we should lose everything we possessed. 
I say, do not let brandy come into the country.” 

Umqueke said: am a brandy-drinker myself, but I know that what has 

been said is right. M brandy is introduced among us, we shall lose everything 
we have.” 

The Eev. J. A. Chalmers, of Graham’s Town, summed up the 
opinion of the clergy when he said, " If the people are to be saved at all, 
we must restrict the sale of intoxicants among them.’^ 

The Rev. Alan Gibson, a missionary of the S.P.G. in the Transkei, 
said, The future of the KaflELr depends on drink being kept from 

The Commission summed up its evidence in the words: 

“ The use of spirituous liquors is an unmitigated evil, and no other cause 
or influence ... is so completely destructive, not only of all progress and im- 
provement^ but even of the reasonable hope of any progress or improvement'^ 

And Sir Charles Warren, speaking at Oxford on October 25, 1886, 
said : 

“ The blood of thousands of natives was at the present tivsLe crying up to Heaven 
against the British race ; and yet, from motives of expediency, we refused to take 
any action.” 

We are not solely responsible for this terrible state of things ; the 
Portuguese are probably much worse. But the results are described as 
follows by Dr. Clark : — 

On the south coast of Africa, too, the people were very demoralized. The 
traders would sell a bottle of gin for Qd. ; and he had seen thousands of girls 
lying drunk around the traders* waggons.** 

The Basutos alone have partially liberated themselves from the 
infernal snare of our temptations. But no thanks are* due to us. 
The deliverance has come from the vigorous temperance exertions of 
the chief, Paulus Mopeli, brother of their chief Moshesh. 

3. Turning to Eastern Africa, we are faced by. the tragic story of 
Madagascar — a story which the Rev. H.W. Little, once a missionary on 
the island, calls without parallel for pathos and consuming interest 
in the history of th^ world.” In 1800 the Malagasy were a nation 
of idolaters; now, ^thanks ^n great measure to the London Mis- 
sionary Society, they are a nation of Christians. They loved, they 
almost adored the English, who had done so much for them. Un> 
happily, however, Mauritius became a sugar-producing colony, and 
9 rum was made from the refuse of the sugar-mills. What was to be 
done with it ? It was not good enough for European markets, and 
Madagascar was made the receptacle for the damaged spirit of the 
colony ! ” They received the curse in their simplicity, and it produced 
frightful havoc. " The crime of the island rose in one short year by 



leaps and bounds to a height too fearful to record." ' The native 
Government was seized with consternation, and the able Imd coura- 
geous king, Badama paid the duty, and ordered eve^ cask of rum 
to be staved in on the shore, except those that went to the Govern- 
ment stores. The merchants of Mauritius complained ; the English 
officials interfered; and from that day the cursed stuff has had free 
course^ and deluged the land with misery and crime. Badama^s son, 
Badama II., a youth of great promise, became a helpless drunkard 
and a criminal maniac, and was assassinated, after a reign of nine 
months, by order of his own Privy Council. Drunkenness is con- 
sidered a European fashion, and in spite of the grief of the native 
authorities, " this crying injury to a perishing people remains unre- 
dressed and unheeded by the most humane and Christian nation in 
the world. The same story nfay be told, with very slight variation of 

detail, of all the native tribes on the east African seaboard 

Tempted by greed and avarice white traders introduced the cheap 
rum of Mauritius. Souls of men were bartered fqr money, and Africa 
is still being slowly but surely desolated by the foremost missionary 
nation in the worldJ^ * 

4. Turning to Western Africa we have a flood of evidence of the 
ghastly ruin which we are causing by our drink trade. 

The Bev. H. Waller makes the following remarks 

•‘‘For generations the West Coast negro has been accustomed to see the 
ocean cast up the powder-keg, the rum-cask, and the demijohn — these have 
been the shells of his strand. Borne from Bristol, Liverpool, Hamburg, and 
Holland, they come rolling through the surf out of steamers and sailing 
vessels. • 

“ The idea of drinking spirits is inseparable from the notion of European 
life in the ken of the native.” 

Great Britain sent in 1884 
Germany „ „ 

Portjigal „ 1882 

America ,, 1884-5 . 

Gallons. £ 

602,328 Value 117,143 
7,136,263 „ 713,634 

91,524 ,, 6,166 

921,412 „• 56,889 

8,751,527 £893,832 

The Bev. Hugh Qoldie, missionary for nearly forty years in Old 
Calabar, says that the missionaries evejywherC^ found themselves pre- 
ceded by the gin bottle, and that half of the (expense of the mission 
in money and life may be fairly charged to the account of the drink 
traffic t while it continues the phurch canhot hope for the success at 
which she ' aimed.^ • 

Writing from Sierra Leone, Mr. Thomson says : 

“ To a man, the KrUboys have spent 'years in contact with such ameliorating 
influences as are to be found in those parts, yet their tastes have risen no 
higher than a desire for gin, tobacco, and gunpowder. These they get in 

* British and Goionial Temperanoe Congress,” pp. 232-238. 

TOL. Lll. 



return for a few montks’ or a year’s labour, to go back borne, and for a few 
short days e^joy a fiendish holiday, I visited one of their villages^ and such 9 
scene of squalor and misery I have rarely seen,'' 

And again : 

“ In West Africa our influence for evil enormously counterbalances any 
little good we have produced by our contact with Africa.” 

And these are the grave and sample remarks of the distinguished 
native, the Rev. James Johnson : ( 


“ Now, to give you some idea of the amount of drink that is exported from 
this country to West Africa, I would just instance Lagos. Into this small 
island Europe exports every year an average of about 1,231,302 gallons of 
spirits. Out of that quantity 1,205,160 gallons are what are known in West 
Africa as ‘ trade rum ’ tind ‘ trade gin.’ The tbwn of Lagos owns h popula- 
tion of 37,000, and in it there are fifty shops where liquors are dispensed to the 
37,000 inhabitants. If we go to the Niger, there are about 250 miles of coast- 
line under British protection. On this coast- line the annual consumption of 
drink is estimated at about 60,000 hogsheads, each hogshead measuring 50 
gallons. You have now an idea of the terrible flood of strong drink that is 
coming into Africa by the commerce of Europe. That would be sufiiciently 
serious if the spirits sold to these people were sound good spirits, but it 
becomes a much more serious matter when you come to think of the quality 
of the stuff that is dispensed. The Government of Berlin convened a con- 
ference for the purpose of encouraging the extension of European commerce, 
and with it th# drink traffic, throughout the length aiid breadth of Africa. 1 
know of nothing that brings such a reproach upon Christianity and upon 
civilization as that. This conference of Christian Powers refused to stop thiit 
trade. What is the quality of the stuff they bring ? It is the vilest manu- 
facture under the sun. It is so bad — the ‘ trade rum ’ and * trade gin ’ — 
that the lowest European trader on the coast would never drink it himself. 
It is so bad that in West Africa native 'painters have used it instead of turpen- 
tine. One kind they call * death ’ itself, because every one who drinks it suffers 
most seriously ; the other kinds are just as dangerous, as destructive, and as 
ruinous, only they do their work more slowly. It has a most injurious effect 
upon the people; it t^eakens the body, it debases the mind, it demoralizes the 
intellect, and it feeds the 'war element in the country. There *has been no 
peace in Africa ^for centuries, but this drink traffic makes it w'orSe. Why 
should European proximity to A frica he Africa's ruin ? Negroes have proved 
themselves able to survive the evils of the slave trade, cruel as they were; but 
they show that they have no power whatever to withstand the terrible evils of 
drink. It renders the natural increase of population an impossibility. Imagine 
this kind of spirit being spread over the whole counti^". Surely you musi^ see 
that the death of the negi^ace is simply a mGAter of time," 

After such evidence, which I have been obliged greatly to curtail, 
no-one can doubt that the drink trade is assailing Africa, to its utter 
destruction, from every quarter«of the compass, and leaving eveiTWfaere 
itSibaleful mark, as uniform as the movement of the planets, and as 
deadly as the sirocco of the desert.’^ Ought we not/ as Cbatham'did, 
to call, upon all the ministers of religion, pf every denomination, to 
p^orm a lustration, and purify their countiy from this, stain? Or 
is it too late? and does the voice of Judgment say to us: 



** Do not repent these things. A thousand knees, 

Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, 

Upon a barren mountain, an^ still winter 
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
To look that way thou wert ? ” 

.And there are two considerations suggested by the subject to which 
I should like to draw special attention. 

1. Oue is the aggravation of our national guilt in this matter by 
the fact that even these helpless races have yet found a voice to 
express their entreaty thA they may be delivered from the alien curse 
inflicted by a contact which they did not seek, and which is destroy- 
ing them. " We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we 
saw the anguish^ of his soul, and would not hear." 

In 1883 the natives of the Diamond Fields implored the Cape 
Parliament to have public-houses removed from them for a distance of 
six miles, and their petition was cruelly rejected. The Blue Book of 
the Cape Commission abounds with their entreaties. 

“ There has broken out,” says Mr. Waller, not only in one or two, but in 
several densely populated tracts of Africa, an intense desire to shake off the 
drunkenness which has arisen as a consequence of contact with civilization.” 

King Malike, the Mohammedan Emir of Nupe, invokes, in terms 
of touching simplicity, the aid of Bishop Crowther : 

“ It is not a long matter ; it is about barasa (rum or gin). Barasdy harasd, 
hftmsd : hy God! it has mined our country; it has ruined our people very 
much ; it has made our people become mad. I have given a law that no one 
dares buy or sell it; and any one who is found selling it, his house is to be 
eaten up (plundered) ; any one found drunk will be killed. I have told all 
the Christian traders that I agree to everything for trade except barasd. Tell 
Crowther, the great Christian minister, that he is our father. I beg you, 
Malam Kipo (Mr. Paul), don’t forget this writing, because we all beg that he 
(Crowther) should 'beg th^ great jmests (Committee C. M. S.) that they should 
beg the English Queen to j)revent bringing barasd into this land. 

Eor God and the Prophet's sake ! For God, and the Prophet His mes^ 
ser^ger's sajce, '"he must help us in this matter — that of barasd / We all have 
contidence in him. He must not leave our country to become spoiled by barasd. 
Tell him, may God^bless him in his work. This is the mouth-word from 
Malik4, the Emir of Nupe.” , 

It is not only the teetotallers of Lagoa," said Mr. Johnson in 
the Committee-room of the House of Commfci^y it is the leaders 
of the people who are calling" out." * ^ 

Their kings and chiefs had endeavoured, hy their own laws, to put a stop to 
the importation of this drink, yet they had no power over their people. Mm 
and women and children all drinkP* * , 

2. And the second consideration to which I would draw attentiofl 
ia, that the dri^k trade is, and will be, increasingly fatal to every other 
branch of commerce. The evidence is decisive that every other branch 
of trade will be sapped and blighted to feed the bloated fungus of 
hideous prosperity with which the drink trade flourishes. 

i 2 



“ It was thought,” said Mr. Johnson, “ that legitimate commerce would 
correct tl^e evils of the slave trade in a great measure, and indeed the 
people have responded to the efforts made to civilize and to elevate them. 
As you travel through some of the interior country, your eyes rest 
upon miles and miles of land well cultivated; and as you stand at Lagos 
you can see fleets of canoes laden with casks of palm-oil, nuts, and 
other produce. But when they are returning home, what do they carry 
away with them ? Fcry few pieces of cloth ; every one of them is laden 
with rum and gin. We give Europe palm-oil and many other useful 
things ; but what does she gives us in return ? This vile stuff ; this spirit 
which sends our people drunken and mad. ^firely you will agree with me 
thatj in the interests of Christianity, in the interests of humanity, something 
should he done to stop this evil. What is the action of the Government? 
Because on the West Coast our colonists are Crown colonists — we are not 
independent,* we are ruled from England practically — we must submit every 
measure to the Foreign Office here, and until it sanctions the measure it cannot 
be carried. What is the action of the Government towards this drink traffic ? 
It is not indifference ; it is protection. It protects the trade. We have appealed 
to the Government to help us. The natives of the interior countries with 
whom we trade are groaning under the burden of this drink. Kings have 
been known to take away the lives of their subjects wffien they have been under 
its influence; hut our efforts meet with no success from the Government. 
Individuals have spoken to the Government, but the difficulty always is — the 
revenue considerations will not allow it. It is a revenue raised at the expense 
of the lives of the people ; a revenue raised at the expense of the lives of incU' pen- 
dent tribes with whom we trade; a revenue raised at the price of blood. We 
appeal to other Governments, and invite them to ‘Come to our aid. They, 
however, say : ‘ If we give up the trade, it may fall into the hands of others ; 
it may go into the hands of Germany.’ A similar point was raised wnth 
regard to the slave trade, but 'William Pitt nobly said it was our only duty 
to do what was right before God and man. Now, what we desire is, that 
there should be a lively interest in this question, and that the British 
Government should be petitioned by you to take steps to suppress this 
traffic in AVest Africa, and free the peoi^le from the burden under which they 
now live.” 

‘‘ One principal cause of the depression of trade,” says the Rev. HughjGroldie, 
“ existing at ^present in this country is doubtless, as is alleged, the vast 
amount of money spent in intoxicating drink ; and we may welj wonder that 
God continues to clothe our fields with harvests, when so much of the food 
He provides for us is destroyed and converted into that which is the cause of 
so much evil. But the same cause operates against «our manufacturing 
interest throughout the world. When Africa expends so great a part of the 
product of its industry in strong drink, it can have little to give for that which 
is profitable to itself or to us. A friend mentioned to me lately that a member 
of a Glasgow firm stat^ to him that he formerly employed a large number of 
looms weaving cloth foi^ the African market ; ’noiv he has not one, A trader in 
the Calabar river wrote recently to his principals to send no more cloth — drink 
was the article in demand. Mr. Joseph Thomson, in his recent journey into 
the Niger regions, found this evil so^ abQunding therein, that it will render 
hopeless the demand, anticipated *by some, by the natives, for unlimited supplies 
6f calico, as effectually as will the sterility of the eastern countries through 
which he formerly travelled. In all its effects, moral and economical, this 
traffic is only evil : impeding the work of the Church at hdhie, marring her 
mission work abroad, and destroying beneficial industry.” 

Similar is the evidence of the Rev. W. Holman Bentley of the 
Baptist Mission : 



“ When at Loango four years ago, spirits were the chief article of barter. 
The trader with whom I was staying laughed at the idea of my talking to the 
chiefs about labourers for our mission after eleven o'clock in the morning. lie 
3aid that the principal mm would he drunk at that hour. 

“ The result of such a state of things* cannot be favourable to any industry^ 
either native or European^ except to a few distillers. Such natives will not 
have suflScient energy of mind and body for trading expeditions into the 
interior, while the heavy commissions qr customs levied by such chiefs dis- 
courage the native trader. Sometimes as much as one-half, or at least one- 
third, of the payments in barter is put aside for the native broker from the 
neighbourhood of the factor}^ 

“Our manufacturing districts ought to second every effort t6 put a stop to 
this traffic, which fils the pockets of a few distillers^ chiefly German and 
Dutch, while all legitimate trade and manufacture suffer considerably in con- 
sequence''^ , 

The African Lakes Trading Company, officered by Scotch agents, 
has made a noble stand against this curse. Mr. Moir, its representa- 
tive, says : 

“ The profits on the sale of spirits is 700 per cent, as conducted by some 
of the European houses. I heard it all figured out by one of themselves. 
This included a pretty liberal addition of water to some of the fouler liquid ; so 
you have a very hard enemy to fight. I have sem boys and girls of about 
fouvLCen or fifteen years old getting their wages in this poison.'^ 

The Committee of the Baptist Mission call attention to the fact 
that the European traders, who have firmly resisted traffic in spirits, 
have been driven, in consequence of the general prevalence of such 
barter, to abandon their trade, 

In face of such facts as these, the Archbishop of Canterbury 
might well say in his sermon on May 2 in Westminster Abbey : 

'‘It is a dread commerce. But it is rather an anti-commerce. The fear of 
it and the dread of it will soon be upon commerce itself. If we have long 
seen monopi>lies to be a bar and obstruction to trade — if we have found that 
to put a whole trade into the hands of one man to kill trade — what 
£~;all we say of a system which, in the name of freedom, threatens with ex- 
tinction all trades but one ? What of bales of goods re-shipped because, in 
the drunken population, there wks no demand but for drink — because 
they would receive nothing else in barter — wquld take no other wages for 
the early morning's work, and were incapable when the early morning was 
past? These, and d|irker tales than these, are the depositions of eye- 
witnesses, whom we have no ground to mistriijgt, or even suspect of 
exaggeration. But these surely must be ^nexpectod results of ;^e foreign 
diplomacy which insisted, without quaHfication, on ^ the interests of trade ’ 
and ‘ commercial liberty.’ It would be treason to ouf neighbours to suppose 
tha.t such results were foreseen — such crippling of commerce, such disabling 
of industrial energies as must supervene.” • 

Hum," as Mr. Waller says, “ is in more senses than one the 
sJceleton-key to Africa of the trade in liquor ; and all other traders, 
whose articles of commerce are harmless or beneficent, may feel very 
sure that the drink-seller, who is hardly likely to be more tender to 
their interests than to those of the myriads whom he is now actively 



helpiDg to extirpate, tfUI effectually and unscrupulously lock the door 
of Africa against them, until he has no more victims left to slay ; a 
result which seems to be in rapid course of accomplishment. Then 
immoral traders — these artists, in human slaughter/^ as Lord 
Chesterfield called the gin-distillers a hundred years ago — will look 
out, no less remorselessly, for other dark and helpless races, which they 
have not yet wholly exterminated r—if such there be — whom, for their 
own filthy lucre’s sake, they may demoralize and destroy. For they 
are secure in our mean doctrines of politifTal expediency, secure in 
our reckless shibboleths of doctrinaire finance and abhorrent liberty ; 
and all the while, such is the capability of self-sophisticatio^by the 
human conscience, they will persuade themselves, and others will 
persuade them, that they are excellent philanthropists and exemplary 
Christian men ! 

Mr. Joseph Thomson, who speaks with all the authority of an eye- 
witness, said in this Review last December, that fqr any African 
who is influenced for good by Christianity, a thousand are driven into 
deeper degradation by the gin trade ; ” and that Mohammedan 
missionaries are throwing down the gage to Christianity, and declar- 
ing war upon our chief contribution to Western Africa — the gin- 

And this is the way in which we arc teaching " the Morians land 
to stretch out her hands unto God ! 

My odious task is finished. If these facts have no weight on the 
minds and consciences of our rulers and legislators, those consciences 
must indeed be callous beyond reprieve. Are jre so wholly given up 
to the idolatry of the two brazen idols of spurious liberty and 
economical laissez-faire as to bear contentedly the weight of this 
infamy and this gu^t ? Are we content to be represented to the 
minds of savages by our worst and greediest sons ? A nation may for 
a time sin in' ignorance. It may be for a time unaware of the 
nefarious trade to which its least worthy representatives offer a 
holocaust of tribes and ilations^ passing them through the fire to a 
demon even viler than Moloch, the abomination of the children of 
Ammon. But England can plead ignorance no longer. If she 
continue^GT dabble h^ hand in blood, if she continue to be liable to 
the deep damnation " of taking off these dark races, does she think 
to be acquitted at the awiiil bar of God by mumbling the shibboletha 
of " free trade " or “ vested interest ? If so, let her not be deceived. 
The sword bathed in heaven " is not in haste to strike ; but when 
the *hour for just retribution has come,* it is apt to smite once^ and 
smite no more." 

P. W. PAmRAB. 



A TOES O from the hand of Pheidias^ a portrait by Titian, a Mass 
by Palestrina or Bach, a lyrical poem of Milton, an abbey 
church of the thirteenth century — are all works of art ; matchless, 
priceless, sacred : such as man on this earth will never replace, nor 
ever see again. They are, each and all, like a great life, or a memor- 
q,ble deed, which, once spent, can never be repeated in the same way 
again, and yet, which once lived, or once achieved, the world is for 
ever after a better place. And these inimitable works are npt only 
amongst the heirlooms of mankind ; but they are records of the life 
of our fathers, which concentrate *in a single page, canvas, block of 
stone, hymn, or it may be, portal, as mpch history as would fill a 
library of dull written annals. From the point of view of beauty, 
of knowledge, of reverence, these works of art are, as the Statesman 
of Athens said, an everlasting possession.'’^ 

Yet how strangely difierent is the way in which we treat the statue, 
the picture, ■tb^ music, the poem, from the way we treat the church 
— ^Ihe churchy one would think the most sacred of all. It is not so 
with us. We preserve the torso, or the portrait — we restore the 
church. We give it a new inside and a fresh^putside. We deck it 
out in a brand-new suit to cover its nakedness.^, ’ A committee of sub- 
scribers choose the style, the century, into which it shall be trans- 
posed ; they wrangle in meetings, in rasping letters, and corrosive 
pamphlets, as. to carrying on an early-pointed arcade in the lady- 
chapel, or as to introducing a gridiron mass of perpendicular tracery 
' in the west 'window. The/ Chapter, the subscribers, the . amateur 
archaeologists, each have their pet style; sub-style, and epoch, their 
fancy architect, or infaUible authority in stone, antiquities, and taste. 
Between them the Church is gutted, scraped, re-faced, translated into 



one of those brand-new^ intensely mediseval^ machine-made^ and engine- 
turned fabrics^ which , the pupils of the great man of the day turn 
out by the score. iThis is how we treat the church. 

Imagine the tmith part of this outrage applied to statue^ picture^ 
hymn, or poem. Suppose the Trustees of the British Museum were 
to call in Mr. Boehm and commission him to restore the Parthenon 
torsos, to bring the fragments fro^u the Mausoleum up to the style of 
the Periclean era. Suppose the Ministry of Fine Arts in France 
restored the arms of the Melian Aphrodite ijK the Louvre, or the Pope 
restored the legs, arms, and head to the torso beloved by Buo^rotti. 
Europe, in either case, would ring with indignation and horrorP Time 
was, no doubt, when these things were done, and tdone by clever 
sculptors -in better ages of art than ours. *But we may be fairly sure 
that it will never be done again. 

Pictures, we know, have been restored ; and, perhaps, on the sly 
are restored still. I myself saw a miscreant painting over the Peter 
Martyr of Titian in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo ; and I 
wished that the fire which consumed it had caught him red-handed 
in the act. They have daubed Leonardo’s Cenacolo till there is 
nothing but a shadow left. But though a sacrilegious brush may 
now and then be raised against an ancient Master (just as murder, 
rape, and arson are not yet absolutely put down), even our great-: 
great-grandfathers, who made the grand tour and collected ” in the 
days of Horace Walpole, never added powder and a full wig to one 
of Titian’s Doges, or asked Zoffany to finish a chalk study by Michael 

I do not know that there ever was a time when people restored 
a poem or a piece of music. Certainly Colley Cibber restored 
some of Shakespeare^s plays, introducing bon ton into Hamlet and 
Richard III.” And Michael Costa would interpolate brass into 
HandePs Messiah.” But in any world that claims a title to ^rt, taste 
or culture, to falsify a note or a word, either in music or in poem, 
is rank forgery and profanity — ^felony without benefit of clergy. 
Manuscripts are searched* with microscopes and collated by photo- 
graphs to secure the ipsissima verba of the authpr. And the editor 
who " improved ” a single line of Lycidas ” would be drummed out 
of literature to the '^"l’.ogue^s tiarch.” 

In our day, happily, poem, music, picture, and statue are preserved 
with a loving and religious •care. Picture and statue are cased in 
glass and air-tight chambers ; 4br we would not beteem the winds of 
heaven visit their face too roughly. The rude public aire kept at 
arms^lei^^h ; and in some countries afp not suffered so much as to 
look, at the books, engravings, and paintings which they have paid 
f(Mr« Worship of an old poet is carried to the point of printing his 
comxxisitions in the authentic but unintelligible cacography he used. 


And as to old music, reverence is carried so far that too often we do 
not perform it at all, I suppose for fear that a pass|ige here and there 
may not be interpreted aright. 

Gro to Mr. Newton or Mr. Murray, and tell him that the 

Theseus " and " Hissus ” in the Elgin Room (I use the old con- 
ventional names) are sadly dilapidated on their surface, and that you 
could restore their skins to the original polish ; or propose to repaint 
the Panathenaic frieze in the undoubted colours used by Pheidias. 
Tell Sir Frederick Burton l{iat the lights in the Lazarus ^ and the 

Bacchus and AriadnQ have plmnly gone down ; and that you will 
carry out^the ideas of Sebastian and Titian by heightening them a 
little. Tell him that Alexander and the Family of Darius " is full 
of anachronisms, and that you will re-robe the figures with strict 
attention to chronology and archaeology. I should like to see the 
looks of these public servants when you proposed it, as I should 
like to have seen Michael Angelo watching the Breeches-maker^^ 
who clothed the naked saints in his Sistine “ Last Judgment.” 

Statue, picture, book, music, are preserved intact with reverential 
awe. Not but what some of them have suffered too by time, get 
utterly dilapidated, are in risk of perishing, have become mere 
fragments, or offer tempting ground for ambitious genius. The 
Aphrodite ” of Melos is still a riddle : the tomo of the Vatican is a 
v^ry, sphinx in stone, a mass of marble ever propounding enigmas, 
ever rejecting solutions. It is a block as it stands : head, arms, legs, 
and action would make it a statue. The “ Cenacolo of Milan has 
long been a mere ghost of a fresco, faint as the last gleam of a 
rainbow. There are still whole choruses of uEschylus to restore ; 
and Shakespeare is certainly not responsible for every scene in his 
so-called works. Literature and. Art are full of works, either injured 
by time, or left incomplete by their authors, or- such as modern 
research could easily purge of their anachronisms, inconsistencies, 
and general defects. 

It is in one art only that modern research dares this outrage. Great 
works of architecture are not exactly on the same footing with great 
works of sculpture, of pointing, of music, of poetry. They differ from 
all ; and I will presently consider these differences. But great works 
of architecture* are, as I say, like all great workss^^of art, matchless, 
priceless, and sacred.. They are absolutely beyond copying. It is 
easier to copy Titian^s " Entombment ” than* the portal of Chartres or 
Notre Dame as they once stood, and stand no more. Each . great 
work -of architecture is also unique : completely distinct from every* 
work that ever was or ever will be. Giotto’s Campanile, the Duke^s 
Palace at Venice, stand alone— must we say stood alone ? — ^like 
Hamlet or Lear, remote, sublime,’ and inaccessible.*’^ A man who 
wanted to continue Giotto’s Campanile, or add a new story, and 



enlarge the Palace at Venice, is the kind of man who would continue^' 
the Iliad/’ or dramatise the Divine Comedy” for the Lyceum stage. 

In all ways the great building is worthy of a deeper reverence^ is 
consecrated with a profounder halo of social and historical mystery 
than any picture or any statue can be. Of the five great arts, that 
of building is the only one which adds to its charm of beauty the 
solemnity of the genius loci. It is the one art which is immovably 
fixed to place; the rest are migratory or independent of space. 
Poetry and music, not being arts of fjrm, are not confined to any 
spot. Statues and paintings, though they can only be seen in some 
spot, may be carried round the world and set up in muleums and 
galleries. But the building belongs for ever to the place where it is 
set up. It is incorporated with the surroundings, the^climate, the 
people, the site, where it first rose. No museum can ever hold it; 
it is not to be catalogued, mounted, framed or classed like a coin or 
a mummy in a glass case. It stands for ever facing the same eternal 
bills, the same ever-fiowing river, rising into the same azure or 
lowering sky into which it rose at first in joy or pride. It may be as 
old as the Pyramids, or as recent as Queen Anne. But in any 
case it has watched generation after generation come and go; for 
thousands of years men have passed under that portal ; for centuries 
the bell has tolled from that tower. The steps of this colonnade 
have been worn by the feet of Pericles, Sophocles, Plato, and Socrates ; 
under this arch passed the Antonines, Trajan, and Charlemagne; 
Saint Louis used to pray standing on this very floor, six centuries 
and a half ago ; this chapter-house was for two centuries the cradle 
of the Mother of Parliaments throughout the world. 

No other art whatever, with the partial exception of large frescoes,* 

, neither music nor poetry, has this religio loci, this consecration of 
some spot by hallowed association, which is bound up with the very 
life of every great building. In the whole range of art there is 
nothing so human, so social, so intense, as this spirit which has made 
the practice of pilgrimage an eternal instinct of humanity. To pass 
from the roar of Paris or London to sit beside the Venus or the 
Theseus is delight. We all feel rest and awe before a Madonna of 
Kaphael, a portrait of Titian, or listening to Jlozart's Bequiem,” or 
to “ Paradise Lost|” Bht^to me, a son of earth, no art comes home, 
seeming at once so intense and so infinite, as when 1 wander round 
the old piazzas at Florence and Venice, or pace about the eisles of 
the Abbey. There art, memory, veneration, patriotism^ the pathos, 
, the endurance, the majesty of humanity, seem to me to blen^ in one 
overpowering sensation. Who can say where Art ends Venera- 
tion begins? 

* Such frescos as those of the Arena Chapel at Padua, or the Sistine Chapel at Borne, 
belong to architecture as much as to paintixig, almost as much as the frieze of the Par- 
Hisnon is a part of the building. 


Thus every ancient buildings whether it be a successful work of 
art or not^ is sacred by its associations^ and is a standing record in 
itself. Bat an ancient building is a far more definite product of the 
society out of which it grew and the civilization which created it, 
than any statue or any painting, almost more than any music, or 
any poem. It is usually a far less personal and individual act of 
imagination than statue, painting, poem, or music. It is a collec- 
tive and developing work, the creation of a series of minds, the 
inspiration of a given epocSi, and of a particular people. No great 
statue, or painting, or piece of music, or poem, was ever produced by 
a group of artists. ^lost great buildings were. The Parthenon is 
in whatsis called* the Doric not the Ionic style ; and we think of 
Pheidias, the sculptor, rathei' than Ictinus, the architect, as the genius 
who created it. Hardly a single great church, till the age of Wren, 
can be positively assigned to one sole author, as we assign the 

Agamemnon positively to iEschylus, or the Sistine Madonna to 
the stessa mano of Raphael. A few, a very few, buildings bear the 
stamp of. one unique genius, such as the Campanile at Florence, the 
Sainte Chapelle, and our St, PauFs. Statues, paintings, poems, and 
music, are each the complete conception of one mind, the execution 
of one hand. . As a rule, buildings are the accumulating conception 
of several minjds^ the ekecution of successive generations. 

It is no doubt this character in buildings which has made us slow 
to treat them with the reverence and love that we show so readily to 
works in the other arts. Other works are the creations of some 
jnaster whose name, story, and individuality we know. A Madonna 
is by Raphael or Bellini j a poem is \)y Dante or Milton ; a Mass is 
by Bach or Mozart; a statue is by Pheidias or Michael Angelo. 
And we cannot conceive any other hand or brain so much as touching 
the work. But the Church of the Holy Wisdom at Constantinople 
is the worjf of the Byzantine School ; the Cathedral of Chartres is 
the work of builders in the Middle Ages ; the Abbey, the Tower of 
London, the Louvre, the Diiomo, and the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence, 
represent whole uenturies of successive evolution in art and manners. 
Statues and paintings ^re the creations of single Masters. Buildings 
are the collective growth of Ages. 

But for this very reason, what buildings lose fti personal interest 
they gain in human interest, in social significance, in historical value. 
The multiplicity of parts in a great edifice, the vast range of its power 
over an infinite series of human souls, the sacrifices, the endurance, 
the concentration of efforts by which it was bbilt up, and the count-* 
less generations of men who have contributed .to its beauty or have 
been touched by its majesty, give it a collective human glory, which 
no statue or picture ever had — a glory which is exceeded only by 
the great poems of the world. A Madonna was struck off in a few 



months^ and since it was put on canras has been seen by some tens 
of thousands^ of whom some thousand came from it better men. A 
statue^ a song^ a lyric, appeals to a definite number in a definite way^ 
but hardly to a whole people on every side of their souls. But take 
a great building-^a great group of buUdings — at its highest point — 
say the Acropolis at Athens^ the Forum at Old Borne, the Papal 
edifices at modern Borne, the Piazzas at Florence, Venice, and Verona, 
Notre Dame as it stood unrestored, our own great group at West- 
minster — in vast range of impression and invention they are certainly 
surpassed hj* the Bible, the Iliad," “The Divine Comedy," or 
the works of Shakespeare, but by no other creative work of man 
ever produced. ’ The civilization of whole races is petrified iito them. 
For centuries, tens of thousands of men have toiled, thought, imagined, 
and poured their souls into the work. It would he an education in 
art to have known by heart that glorious fa9ade of Notre Dame*, as 
it once was, when every leaf in its foliage, every fold in the drapery, 
every smile in every saint's face, was an individual conception of some 
graceful spirit and some deft hand — to have known every legend which 
blazed in ruby, azure, and emerald in the countless lights of nave, choir, 
aisle, and transept, the thousands of statues which peopled it within 
and without, the carved stalls and screens, the iron, brass, and silver 
and gold-work, the pictures, the frescoes, the* tombS, the altars, the 
marbles, the bronzes, the embroideries, the ivories, the mosaics.. A 
great national building is the product of a nation, and is the school 
of a nation. And for this reason it should stand next in reverence 
and love to the great poems of a nation. Next to the " Iliad " and 
the “ Trilogy " comes the Parthenon. Next to the “ Divine Comedy ” 
the Duomo of Florence and its adjuncts. Next to Shakespeare and 
Milton the Abbev. 

• c 

There is thus a peculiar quality in the great historic building which 
marks it otf from all other works of art. It is in a special sense a 
living work. It is not so much a work as a being. It has an organic 
life, organic growth ; it has a history, an evolution of its own. The 
Pantheon at Borne has gone on living and growing for nearly nine- 
teen centuries, the Castle of St. Angelo for, nearly seventeen, the 
Church of the Holy Wisdona for thirteen, and pur own Toweir for 
eight centuries ; and all of^ them are' still living building, and not 
at all ruins or “ monuments." A building n^ay undergo amazing 
permutations, like Hadrian^s Mausoleum, the Baths of Diodedan, or 
the Church of Justinian, and yet retain its identity and its vital 
•energy. A building is indeed rather an institution than a work ; and, 
like all institutions, it. has its own evolution, corresponding with the 
social evolution on which it depends, and of which it is the symbol. 
Our Tower, Abb)^, Palace of Westminster, and Windsor Castle are 
much more like our Monarchy, Parliament, and Judicial system than 


they are like a Madonna by Raphael, or a statue by Fheidias. They 
are not objects to he looked at in museums. They are organic lives, 
social imtitutionsy historic forces. 

Now I hold that all national^ historic, monumental buildings what- 
ever, however small or humble, partake of this character, and ought 
to have the same veneration and sacredness bestowed on them. 
Every building that has a definite public history, and has been dedi- 
cated to public use, be it church, tower, bridge, gateway, hall, is a 
national institution, is a public possession, and has become sacrosanct, 
as the Romans said. In the law of Rome, the ground, in which one 
who had the right buried a dead body, became, ipso facto, religious ; 
it ceased* to be private property, it could not be bought or sold, trans- 
ferred or used. It was for ever dedicated to the dead, and reserved 
from all current usage. So a building, which our dead forefathers 
have dedicated to the service of generations, should be sacrosanct to 
the memory, of the Past. 

Its size, its beauty, its antiquity, its celebrity, are matters of 
degree not of principle. Essentially it is a national possession, an 
irreparable monument, a Saciied record, as the great Charter and 
“ Domesday " are. These records have become so pitiably few, their 
possible value is so incalculably great, their unique, inimitable, price- 
less nature as relics is so obvious, that wantonly to destroy one of 
tLem ought to be treated as a public crime, like smashing the Port- 
land Yase, or defacing the Charter and ‘^Domesday.” It is preposterous 
that an incumbent and his chur-chwardens, a dean and chapter, a 
mayor and aldermen, a warden and benchers, a highway board, or a 
borough corporation, should be free to deface a national relic, and 
falsify a national record. At the very least, a parish church should 
be as well protected by law as a parish register is against wanton 
defacement and falsification of its contents. In principle the idea 
is admitted by the need for a “ faculty." But a faculty is become a 
ipelancholy form ; and no faculty " is needed by the trustees who 
sell an ancient edifice to a builder’s speculation, by the highway board 
which carts away a ’tower or a gate, or restores" and "improves" a 

Our glorious Milton said, in *a passage as immortal as his poems, 
"as good almost kill a Man as kill a good *Book." We may 
add " As good almost kill a good Book as kill an ancient Building." 
The one is as irrecoverable as tl^e other ; if may teach us as much ; 
it should aflect us even more. See hfiw the words of that most. 
Biblical of passages, which Isaiah himself might have uttered, apply to* 
the building as much as to the book. Is not a great historic abbey 
"an immortality rather than a life?" Is not the cathedral, too, 
" the precious life-|lood of a master-spirit, embalmed and treasured 
up on purpose to a life beyond life ? " Are not these " restorers " and 



impi'overs ” of our public monuments the men. who spill that 
seasoned life of man preserved and stored up in the buildings which 
our forefathers raised, in which their lives were recorded, and their 
best work treasured up ? 

Every work of art has in it the precious life-blood irf a. master- 
spirit ; but a work of ^reat architecture and historic importance 
has in it the precious life-bloodr of many a master-spirit. And the 
humblest ancient monument, though it ^e a petty parish church or 
a market cross, has this seasoned life ofi^an preserved in it.^^ Like 
the picture, the statue, the poem, in every work of art, the precious 
life-blood of the master-spirit which informs it, should make it sacred 
from sacrilegious hands. But the building has also that which pic- 
ture, statue, and poem, have not — thb religio loci. The place 
whereon thou standest is holy ground,^^ may be said of every historic 
monument. Nay more. The ancient building is marked by a filia- 
tion of master-spirits. Like the Saxon Chronicle,^^ or the Annals 
of • Waverley,” it is not a fixed but a current record. It is a con- 
tinuous and moving monument — at once contemporary like annals, 
and. yet organic like a history. The gr^at Charter, Domesday,” the 
Bayeux tapestry, are records of given moments in the national life. 
But in the Abbey and its precincts may be seen the works of Eug- 
lish hands, continuously for a thousand years, generatipu after 
generation, typical contemporary work. Now, the humblest, old 
parish church partakes of this quality of continuous typical work for 

It is monstrous that any man, any body of men, even any single 
generation, should claim the right in the name of property, or their 
office, or their present convenience, to destroy in a moment the con- 
tinuous work of centuries, to desecrate the best work of their fore- 
fathers, and to rob their own descendants of their common birthright. 
Who gave this rare and miiiiitaMe value to the ancient building ? Not 
they, nor even the first f 0 anders of it. Generation after generation 
stamped their mark on it, recorded their thoughts in it, poured into 
it their precious life-blood. It is an aggregate product of them race, 
a social possession of all. Whence came the reliffio loci whid^' casts 
a halo over it ? From no single author, from no set of builders : 
from a long succession of ancestral generations to whom it has 
grown a sacred and national symbol. That precious value which 
time, society, the nation/ have give^ it, is now at the mercy of any 
mall, or any Board. * 

* There was a noble doctrine in the old Homan Law, which I will 
state in the words of Gains : ' Sanctae quoque res, velui wim et 
portae y^uodammodo divini iurie mnt. Quod auiem di^ni. mH$ esU 
id mllius in bonis esi. Things like city gates, are 

sacrosanct ; and, in a sense, under divine 8auctK)D« But whatever 


is under the divine sanction, cannot be the subject of property.” 
That is to say, historic buildings which form . part of the national 
records are consecrdted by the past and dedicated to the future, and 
are taken out of the arbitrary disposal of the present. This principle 
goes deeper than the making them public property. They are not 
property at all — ^not to be used, consumed, and adapted at the 
passing will of the day. They are mot the chattels of the public. 
They are not public properly ; they are consecrated to the nation. 
Each generation is too apt %o ask, like a famous peer, May I not 
do what I please with mine own ” No ! national possessions nre 
much more than public property. They are not " the own ” of a 
passing body. They are the inheritance which the past is be- 
queathing to the future, and of* which we are but trustees. We have 
no absolute rights over them at all ; we have only the duty to 
preserve them. 

So great is the difference between our treatment of old pictures, 
statues, poems, and songs, and our .treatment of old buildings, that 
there must be some ground for our practice. Certainly there is. 
Architecture is an art essentially different from other arts ; and 
buildings are not simple works of art. A building intended to 
shelter and contain men, is, like clothing, food, and firing, a necessity 
of man’s material existence, and not, as picture, statue, poem, and 
sovig are, means of giving grace and joy to man's life. Hence every 
building is first and principally a necessity and a material utility, 
and a work of beauty afterwards (if it ever become so at all). The 
most restless generation does not restore ” and " convert ” either 
picture, statue, poem, or song, as if it were an old gown or a piece of 
carpet, simply because they are not conveniences but enjoyments. A 
generation which finds an old building inconvenient, is cruelly tempted 
to " convert/' “ adapt,” extend, or alter it. Again, the building not 
only occupies a surface of ground enormously greater than picture, 
statue, or book, but it occupies immovably for ever one definite spot 
on the planet ; and in the perpetual^ changes of social life that may 
easily become an intolerable burden on the living. As the building 
occupi^ unalterably a. given spot which is sometimes a primary 
necessity for active life, the alternative not seldom presents itself of 
adaptation or destruction. Thirdly : whilst picture, statue, or book 
can be' preserved almost indefinitely by moderate care, the building 
requires incessant work, sometimes partial renewal of' its substance, 
at times elaborate constructive repair tcT prevent it from actually 
tumbling down. 

There are thus a set of grounds, some on one side some on the 
othfer, 'which mark off the building from all other works ff art. 
There are three main grounds which tempt the living — compel the 
living-^to deal with it from time to time. 



First, it IS primarily a material utility, and only secondarily a work 
of art. 

Next, it occupies a very large and unalterable spot. 

Lastly, it requires constant labour to uphold it. 

On the other hand, there are three main ^unds whicdi make the 
ancient building more sacred than any other work of man’s art. 

First, it alone has the true creligio loci. 

Secondly, it is a national creation, a social work of art, in the 
supreme sense. o 

Thirdly, it is a national record, in a way that no other work of art 
is, because it is almost both a collective and a continuous record. 

Now the action* and reaction, of these two (Competing sets of 
impulses undoubtedly makes the protection of our ancieht buildings 
a very complex and very difficult problem. Both sets are very 
powerful, both act in varying degrees, and the final compromise 
between the rival sets of claims is necessarily the work of much 
anxious discrimination. I venture to maintain that the complication 
and antagonism is such that no hard-and-fast doctrine can be laid 
down. Each case must stand on its merits. Each decision must be 
the laborious reconcilement of conflicting interests. Our cause has 
suffered from over-arbitrary dogmas and some affectation of contempt 
for the plain necessities of material existence. Every one outside 
the Tuileries laughed at Edmond About, when he told the Romans 
of to-day that the only thing left for them was to contemplate their 
ruins.” I wish myself that they had contemplated their ruins a 
little longer, or had allowed us to contemplate them, instead of 
seeking to turn Rome into a third-rate Paris. But we shall be 
laughed at if. we ever venture to tell the nineteenth century that it 
must contemplate its ruins. 

The trust imposed on the century is not to contemplate its ruins, 
but to protect its ancient buildings. Now that will Ije^done if the 
century can learn to feel ,the true sacredness of ancient buildings, if 
it will admit that the building stands on the same footing with 
picture, statue, and poem, that it is unique, inimitable, irreplaceable; 
and, above all, has its own consecration of place, continui^, and 
record. Admit this first, and then<we will consider the claims, of the 
present, their convenience, and theii* means. But the burden of 
proof ought always to be pressed imperiously against those whose 
claim is to destroy, to* convert, or to extend. When every other 
means fail, when irresistible necessity is proved, it may be n sad duty 
to remove an ancient building, to add to it, or to incorporate it. But 
this -can never justify what we* now call " restoring," a process which 
makqi it as much like the original as Madame Tussaud’s figufes are 
like the statesman or general they represent. It can never justify 
cutting out ancient art-work and replacing it by new 


work or machine work. It can never justify archaeological exercises — 
I mean the patching on to old buildings new pieces of our own 
invention, which we deliberately present as fabrications of the antique. 
These things are mere Wardour Street spurious bric-a-brac ^ no more 
like ancient buildings than a schoolboy’s iambics are like Jilschylus. 
How often do committees, dean and chapter, public offices, and even 
Parliament itself, treat our great national possessions as if they were 
mere copy books, on the face of which our modern architects were free 
to practise the art of eon^osing imitations of the ancients. Such 
buildings become much like a Palimpsest manuscript ; whereon, over 
a lost tragedy of Sophocles, some wretched monk has scribbled his 
barbarous prose.,^ How often is the priceless original for ever lost 
beneath the later stuff I • 

In these remarks I have strictly confined myself to general 
principles : first, because I do not pretefid to any. special or technical 
knowledge which would entitle me to criticize particular works, but 
mainly because I believe our true part to be the maintenance of 
general principles. If we fall into discussions of detail we may lose 
held of our main strength. We have to raise the discussion into a 
higher atmosphere than that of architectural anachronism. We 
cannot pitch our tone too high. It is not architectural anachronism 
which we have to check : it is the safety of our national records, our 
national self-respect, the spirit of religious reverence that we have to 
uphold. We have to do battle against forgery, irreverence, and 
desecration. Let us raise a voice against the idea that any work of art 
can ever, under any circumstances, be really " restored against the 
idea that any ancient art-work can usefully be “ imitated against 
the idea that ancient monuments are a corpus vile whereon to practise 
antiquarian exercises ; against the habit of forging spurious monu- 
ments, as the monks in the Middle Ages forged spurious charters ; 
finally, against the idea that the convenience of to-day is always to 
outweigh the sacredness of the past. 

Strangely enough, the foes of ancient buildings are too often those 
of their own hojis^old. Amongst the worst sinners of all are the 
public departments, corporations, and the clergy. The forgers, the 
dcstroyqrs, the mutilators, are tqo often the official guardians of our 
old monuments. One can see why. They are the people who use 
them, to whom they are a necessity and a convenience. Naturally 
they are constantly tempted to give them greater practical usefulness, 
to convert ^em to modern requirements, ^nd above all to make them 
|ook smart. We, of the public, gaze at an old monument, and then 
f we go home. We laymen enjoy an old thirteenth-century church 
just as it is; but .to the official, to the priest, the old hall or the 
old church is the place where his official work is done. fAnd a 
dreadful temptation besets them both to make the seat of official work 

VOL. LII. p 



adequate for ‘its office^ and appear to up to the level of our time. 
A natural sentiment ; but one false and dangerous. Let us resist it 
in the name of the nation^ of the past and of the future. These 
things are sacred by what they have seen and known, by what they 
teach, by what they record. The true solution is this. If the present 
age needs new public offices, bigger churches, new halls, ‘ bridges, 
gates, let them build new ones. If it needs to exercise itself in 
architectural Latin verses, let it do it with new bricks, new stones, and 
on a site of its own choosing. 

I am very far from thinking that this needs Acts of Parliament ; 
that the sacredness of ancient buildings can be guaranteed by law. 
Pictures, statues, poems, are qow safe from modern Vandals by the force 
of public opinion and true feeling for art and antiquity. The owner 
of a Raffaelle or a Titian, of a Greek statue, does not need to be 
restrained by an Act of Parliament or an injunction in Equity against 
the temptation to* paint *over his picture, or to add new limbs to his 
marble. We never hear the owner of some princely gallery say to 
his friends : You remember what a dingy thing my Veronese used 
to be, how poor in colour my Madonna was, and what a stick the 
Venus looked, with one arm and no nose. Well ! I had Rubemup, 
R.A., down from the Academy, and you see the Veronese is as bright 
as an Etty ; my Raffaelle might go into a new altar at the Oratory, 
and the Venus is fit for the Exhibition ! We never hear this ; 
but we do hear a dean or a rector take a party with Ritualist leanings 
over the restored ” cathedral and church, and point out how the 
whole of the stone- work has been refaced, how new tracery has been 
added from Scott’s designs,” and how the Jacobean wood-carving 
has been carted away to Wardour Street; And now the old church 
looks like a new chapel-of-ease at a fashionable seaside place. And 
the Bishop comes down in lawn and blesses the restored and re- 
consecrated building, and the rector gives a garden-party, and the 
county paper brags about the liberal subscription lists.* ' What we 
have to do, is to make them all understand that the whole business 
is profanation, ignorance, and vulgarity. . . 

Ancient buildings certainly cannot be treated as exhibits,^* to be 
cased in glass, and displayed in a njuseum. All their powers, their 
vitality ^nd solemnity would disappear. • They have in most cases to be 
kept fit for use ; and in some rare cases they may have to be completed,, 
where the kind of work they need is within our modern resources. 
As to Falladian work, thaf may pdssibly be attempted ; but as to- 
true mediaeval work of the best periods, it is absolutely impossible. No 
fine carving of this age can be remotely reproduced or imitated* by us 
now in feeling and manner. The current of gradual growth )br the 
best midiaeval work has been broken for centuries. And we cannot 
now recover the tradition. The archaic naive grace of a thirteenth- 


centuiy relief, the delicate spring of foliage round capital or spandrel, 
are utterly irrecoverable* There does not exist the hand or the eye 
which can do it. To cut out old art- work wholesale, and insert new 
machine carving, exactly like cutting out a Madonna in an altar- 
piece, or inserting a new head on to a Greek" tprso. What we have 
to do ia to uphold the fabric as best we may, and preserve the decor- 
ation as long as we can. • 

We have to educate the public, especially the official public, and 
above all the clergy, to un&rstand all that is meant by the sacredness 
of ancient buildings. Our business is not so much to discuss solecisms 
in style and blunders in chronology, as to tnake men feel that our 
national monuments are dedicated by the past to the nation for ever, 
and that each generation but holds them as a sacred trust for the 

Fredekic Harrison. 


T he attention given by the Press to certain proposals of reunion 
between the Wesleyan Methodists and the New Connexion^ 
indicates that the time is passing away when Melhodism could exist 
in the country as a power felt rather than seen/^ The idea that 
such was its proper genius was long in favour with its wisest men. 

It is curious to observe the different points of view from which 
such a movement may be regarded. One of the earliest notices of it 
which came under my eye — that in the Times — ^spoke of the natural 
anxiety of the parent Connexion to see the separated ones restored 
to the fold. Now, that is a form of thought W'hich would not occur 
to a Methodist. He no more dreams of “ one fold than of one 
stall or one dovecote. " One flock and *• one Shepherd " he 
knows; but the "one fold**’ he does not know. The venerated 
translators of our Authorized Version allowed themselves^ to be led 
by the Vulgate into a mistranslation in John x. i6;* but that 
mistranslation has not had the effect of narrowing the views of the 
Methodists. To them the Master speaks of " this fold and of sheep 
"not of this fold^^; yet "one flock and one o Shepherd/' albeit the 
folds be different. To them the test of belonging to the/floeSe lies 
in hearing the voice of the Shepherd and in following him, Aot in 
being either of this fold or that. 

Therefore^ feeling disqhieted, as if the members of the separated 
bodies were aliens from thb true flocks never enters the ;iwmds of 
Methodists. They are no more liable to alarms ibr others such 
confined ideas^ than they are to alarms for the^belves, when excellent 
men seem distressed about them because they are not of the right 
fold : those gentlemen do not say that they wander away from the 

e Set right in fl^ Bevued Venrion. * 



Shepherd^ and only succeed in suggesting that people who enter in by 
the door do probably enter into the fold. No more do the separated 
bodies look upon the original one as if its members were aliens from 
the flock. One Lord^ one faith^ one baptism^ one God and 
Father of all/^ is to every one of them the immovable basis of 
Catholic unity ; and whosoever may plqase, by adding new conditions^ 
to narroTt' this basis, they dare not Their object of worship is 
absolutely one ; their priest and mediator with God is one ; their 
way of salvation is absolutely one; their rule of faith is absolutely 
one — the. Holy Scriptures; even their confessions of faith are in 
every essential one ; and all recognize the single standard^ the inspired 
Word, bj^ which aione must be tried any confession of faith, and any 
article in * such' confession.* Their sacraments are absolutely the 
same. The modes of administration and the other offices of worship 
may vary, and do vary, not only in difierent bodies, but in one and 
the same body, and such variations are not any cause of ofience. 

Heart and soul, believing, as the men do, that the ^^system of 
doctrine preached among the Methodists from the .^beginning, and 
expressed more particularly, not in chiselled propositions, but freely in 
certauj sermons of John Wesley and his notes on the New Testament^ 
is conformable to the sole Authority, they take this confession as 
their deed of partnership. 

This exemption of the Methodists from that eccresiastical ailment 
of which the symptom is viewing as infected all sheep not of 
one particular fold, places the relations of co-existing bodies 
on a footing altogether diflerent from that of sects, each of which 
thinks that those of the other are in peril of forfeiting . grace. 
To Christians also of diflerent communions Methodists have the 
same feeling. It would take a “ surgical operation to get into my 
head a doubt about the spiritual prospects of any one because he is a 
CoAigregationalist, or a Presbyterian, a Baptist, or a Friend— an Arch- 
bishop, br one of the Brethren." Methodists have no monopoly of 
this catholicity, for* they find, on the part of members of many com- 
munions, just the 'same feelings towards them. Where they do not 
find it, they look upoik the sectarian spirit, so long as it is cherished 
by others/ not by themselves, as^a serious matter only for those nar- 
rowed by it. • 

The origin of Mjethodism largely accounts for this attitude in 
respect of ecclesiastical diflerenpes. Of the other forms into which 
Christians have evolved their organization, some took their distinctive 
features from a dispute about doctrines, some from one about jurist 
dictions, some from one about ceremonies, and some from an alliance 
with the secular power, or an encroachment upon it. TYhenever 
diverging bodies had a conflict for ascendency and, one triumphed, a 
grudge would 4)e added to the congenital evil. If the aid of the 



temporal povmr lia4 liibfmicailed ioj mpold be. exaceibated ; 

widif> again, alternatioiw of laa^endepcy and.Ba^Bgation,4iad <^urr^, 
tbe permanent yictoiywonld . leave b 6 lw^it,,a^T(i£tmq 7 on tbe one 
aide and bittoeneas on ^ otiier. • >■ .. >;!. ':r > • 

Now, it ia no tbanbe.tooitber Metbodi8teoE,;MeAod^^#i|t.ia ita 
origin tiie ^atem waa not marked by any of ‘tbeae fea^q;farj.^'K the 
lilac has not the pricklea of the holly, the only reason it '<^.render 
is that it was bom so. It has no more,merit than, its nmghboor ; 
yet it is not so likely to scratch those whtf' come near* it., Methodism 
had no eongemtal political compliancy as towards a Casaar .t'^ho was 
to make Ccmstantinople the metropolitan Chnrch of the:irorld. It 
had no congenital political assumption as towards a Pepin and his 
sons, who' were helped to become Caesars themselves, provided they 
would make Rome the metropolitan Church of the wwld. It had 
no congmital grudge against any Church with which it had struggled 
for national ascendency, and failed. On the contrary, it came into 
existence men could scucely tell how. There it was, '' as if a man 
should cast sedd into the ground, and should sleep and rise night and 
day, and the seed should spring and grow up he knew not how.'* So 
far from having grounds of assumption against any power secular or 
ecclesiastical, it was dependent on the law for its liberty to breathe 
and move. So far from having special favours for which to repay the 
secular power, when they were given it was to others. It needed and 
claimed nothing but common rights — ^rights equally for itself and its 
opponents. If now and then, if here and there, ^magistrates struck 
the nascent growth with hard strokes, the kings, George II. and 
George III., upheld liberty ; and while the deeds of Pr. Borlase MSd 
other ■ local tyrants were soon forgotten, the words of George II., 
"I tell you, while I sit on the English throne no man shall be 
persecuted for conscience sake," * were never out of John 'V^esley's 
mind, any more than were many concurring words apd acts of 
George III. n 

The value of religious liberty as a gift of Divine Providence, con- 
veyed and secured only by a settled government; was perhaps ^more 
felt by Wesley than by any one. His experience in Englesid alone 
would have sufficed to teach him that only by a seeded gflverD&aeiit 
could snch'liberty be upheld;* but lus experience in Ireland hf^ithat 
fact ever flaming before his eyes. . ... 

One of the first attempts of the n't misrionaxy.liAonr 

for foreigners taught him that, if liberty depended i^pop the biiho^, 
it would be in poor keeping. In 1758, Fletcher of Jubdel^ffRfached 
to .thoc iVench prisoners of war, at l^nbridge, in their oiws toi^e 
and hisa They p^tioned the Bishopof London fior leave to»havehis 
aofiees repeated, hut the petition was ^^peremptorily rejected." 

' * Wealej’s Works, vd. xL p. 41, third oditiMi.'lp' 



Another proof of the value, of English liberty was furnished when 
Fletcher visited Switzerland; *^*nie Church of the Canton de Vaud, 
more Catholic than the Anglican Church in its Carolan form^ gave 
the English vicar the pulpit in his native If yon ; but he was sum- 
moned^ before the ' seigneur bmliff for preaching against Sabbath- 
breaking and stage-plays^ whereas the bailiff himself had just sent for 
a company of French comedians. fTherefore he forbade Fletcher to 
preach in the country : '‘A blessed instance of Republican liberty/’ 
writes Wesley, Yet liberty was precious only as a common boon, 
not as a privilege carrying disald vantage to others. have nothing 
to ask either of the King or any of his Ministers.^'* Describing the 
Act of Uniformity, he cries Property for ever ! See how well 
English property was secured in those golden days ! So, by this 
glorious Act, thousands of men guilty of no crime, nothing contrary 
to justice, mercy, or truth, were stripped of all they had, of their 
houses, lands, revenues, and driven to seek where they could, or buy 
their bread. For what ? Because they did not dare to worship Ood 
according to other men’s consciences.^^ Contrasting, then, the 
liberty enjoyed under George III. with the oppressions of Charles II., 
and •yet more strongly with the contemporary oppressions in France, 
Wesley thhhked God and loved the King, and taught all men to do 
the same. But no jot of ‘spiritual independence would he allow to 
oe Tailed in question. Every man had a right to liberty to choose 
his own religion, to worship God according to ... . the best lights 
we have.^ The Qreator gave him this right when he endowed him 

with understanding This is /in indefeasible right ; it is insepa- 

fiable from humanity. And he meant it for not only Englishmen, 
but for all. If the Russians, he said, had subdued the Ottoman 
Empire, th^ ought to have allowed to the conquered both their own 
religion an^ their own laws. Nay, to have given them, not a pre- 
carious toleration, but a legal security for both.^’ t 

Equally free was Methodism in its origin from cause of animosity 
against other Chifrches, as from cause of either political subserviency 
or pc^itieal assumption. It came into existence heir to the good in 
the different branches of the Church, an inheritance entailing a 
permanent charge of Catholic gratitude. Once, when speaking — ^not 
in these pages, but to a purely Methodist audience — and alluding to 
the fact that others- often took pains to hide any debts they might 
owe to the Methodists, I said that such weakness was on our part to 
he met, not by complaints, but by carefully noting and confessing 
our pwn debt», whether as individuals or denominations, to all the 
imrvants of our blessed Lord who bear other names, and to all 
branches of His Universal Church, no matter of what nation or of 
what rites. We hre ih|jrery truth debtors to all, to some debtors in 
* Weriey’s Woi;ks, xit p. 129. T 



and immensely/’ ^ TMs fell nn Methodist ears as so much a 
matter of course that^I never heard a remark about it. ' 

The two earlier forms of Christianity which' had been evolved in 
England — Anglicanism and Puritanism — were represented in the 
rectory at Epworth perhaps as thoroughly as in any house in the 
country. Both Samuel Wesley and Susanna Annesley were nursed 
in Nonconformity^ children of labourers and sufferers in that cause. 
Both had become zealous members of the il^stablished Church, though 
neither perhaps was strictly ‘‘ regular.” ' All the sound doctrines 
and godly influences flowing in both channels were under their roof 
collected into one. The fundamental home trainiug laid a basis 
rather too broad for one sect or the other. Oxfofd, too, did much 
for both the Wesleys, as well as for Vt^hitefield and other fellow- 
helpers — not in enlarging their ecclesiastical sympathies, for those it 
narrowed, but in enlarging their cosmopolitan and social sympathies, 
in developing their reason, elevating their taste, and linking them 
firmly to the past, while extending their perspective of the future. 
In the fellowship of the Oxford Methodist group was formed a tie to 
Ireland wliich certainly had something to do, and probably much to 
do, with Wesley’s intense interest in that country — an interest Which 
led to such a knowledge of it as few Englishmen ever"^ possessed. 
It was Morgan, from Dublin, who broke the ice ” for the two 
Wesleys, in visiting the sick and the prisoners, and whom the uld 
father at Epworth said he must adopt as his own son.” Over 
Morgan’s early grave Samuel Wesley, who never r joined John and 
Charles, sang : ^ 

** Wise in his prime he waited not for noon. * 

When the nickname of Methodist had already survived that of 
Bible Moths, Godly Club, and Supererogation Men, John Wesley 
had no sooner left his lecturing in Greek and Logic, and his- 
moderatorship in disputations, to convert the Indians in Georgia, than 
the voyage brought a new element of enlargement.for the basis that 
was to be. • The merely national lines already laid were to be ex- 
tended. “ It pleased God of His free mercy J;o give me twenty*six 
of the Moravian Brethren for my cumpanions, who endeavoured to 
show me a more excellent w^.” Hitherto he had gone about to 
establish his own righteousness.” The Moravians tried to teimh him 
that the guilty cannot establish their own innocence, and that 
righteousness lost by transgression is recovered only by mer^^ His 
fear of death in storms, and the terror of the other passengers^ 
contrasted with the peace of the Moravians, made a. profound moral 
impression upon him. This new element of German influence on 
the vigorous EngliiAman was greatly intensified during his sojourn 

• “ ProcesdiDgs of OScomenical Methodist'' Conferenoei^’ p. 76. 



in Georgia^ where the Moravians and he were oonstantly in relation. 
In Georgia also, services in the French langu%e came to raise him 
further above the conventional groove. A sojourn on the Continent, 
after his return from Georgia^ brought him into contact with Dutch- 
men, Danes,' and at least one Moscovite/’ and kept him for many 
weeks in intercourse with the Moravians, llis deepened the German 
influence over his development, as well as enlarged his sympathies 
towards men of various mces, and his indulgence for worship in 
various forms. His fellomhip with Peter Bohler had been the most 
potent factor in his new life heretofore. Bohler conquered his repug- 
nance to the doctrine of justification by faith, and kept his spirit on 
the stretch for that peace with God which hitherto had been for him 
rather a sVeet sound in the*Bible and Prayer-book than music in the 
soul making* melody to the Lord. Bohler^s fellowship might have 
been supposed to complete the determining influences of the Germans 
over Wesley. But later the great change in Wesley, which Bohler 
had steadily encouraged him to look for as sure to be wrought in him 
by the gracious Spirit of God, was wrought through the instrument- 
ality of the greater German preacher, Martin Luther. " One was 
reading Luther^s preface to the Epistle to the Romans, and as the 
change which G6d works in the heart by faith in Christ was being 
described, Wesley says : I felt I did trust in Christ alone for 
'oalvation, and an assurance was given me that he had taken away 
my sins, even mirier and saved me from the law of sin and death.*' 
So he says : ‘‘ I felt my heart strangely warmed.” 

So far as I remember, he does *not seem to have remarked the 
curious historical connection between his own college and the in- 
fluences, Moravian and Lutheran, to the instrumentality of which he 
owed the fire which set alight the wood prepared by English Angli- 
canism and ^English Puritanism, and by them jointly laid ready on 
the altar^ Lincoln College was founded by Flemming, Bishop of 
Lincoln, on purpose to counteract the efiects of Wyclif's teaching. 
That teaching led* to the reformation in Bohemia, with Jerome of 
Prague and John Huss. Their teaching powerfully aflected Luther; 
and out of such ashes of the Reformed Churches as were left after 
the Thirty Years' War, sprang the Moravian Brotherhood. Thus, 
while the newly converted Fellow of Lincoln College was with venera- 
tion noting down at Hernhuth the sermons of the stonemason, 
Christian David, the policy of jealous Bishop Flemming was being 
strangely counterworked. The spread •bf Bibles and Bible-reading, 
the running to and fro of humble itinerants — called in the fourteenth 
century Poor Priests, in the eighteenth Methodist Preachers — and the 
awakening of a popular interest in religion as a living power, were all 
to reappear. As Oxford never did print Wyclifs Latin works, and 
till recently knew next to nothing of their contents — contents for 


THS contbmPo^My review. 

which we have to thadik the isiiifienms of Fntgue and Yiennaj^ as for 
the first volumes issdibd we have to thank the lore of a German 
scholar is possible^ even probable^ l^at nmther Chxis^an David 
nor his notable hearer knew- that the fuse which conveyed under 
rivers anid under hills 1;be spark that inflamed them both; had been 
ignited at the lamp of the inan whose ashes the Swift bore to the. 
Severuji and the Severn to the sea. 

This broadening by foreign relations cpf the basis of Wesley’s 
religious eonee^ions and sympathies did not end here. The most 
beloved ahd admired of his fellow-helpers^ John Fletcher, was a Swiss^ 
and formed for many years a living link with the Churches of the 
Continent. The same was the case with Mr. Perronet^ vicar of 
Shoreham, whom he greatly loved. And the German seed which had 
borne such precious fruit was to be repaid a hundred-fold^ not only 
to the Teuton race^ but to mankind. A few German refugees from 
the merciless wars of Louis XIV., who lived in villages near Limerick, 
were early found out by Wesley^s preachers: Barbara Heck and 
Philip Embury of that stock, were the founders of Methodism in the 
United States. When the War of Independence broke out, Paul 
Heck and his Barbara, loving the fiag which had covered their people 
when fleeing from persecution on the Rhine, and had protected 
themselves from it on the Shannon, crossed over the St. Lawrence, and 
became the founders of Methodism in Canada. There, as the boat 
glides down the grand stream, a Canadian will point out to you a 
beautiful spot where sleep, as humbly as if in ^he churchyard of 
Lutterworth, the bones of tho^d whose monuments are trees of 
righteousness growing along either bank of the river, and bearing 
fruit every month ; for their spiritual descendants form by far the 
largest denomination of Christians in the States, and alsp the largest 
Protestant one in Canada. • . 

At an early stage of its development Methodism felb also the 
effects of connection with the Negro race. This influence would not 
have been so penetrating but for Wesley’s expdtience in Georgia. 
Great as was his interest in the Indians, that in tfle Nejgrdes was 
destined to be of more practical im^rt. Striking thus, at the'Very 
outset, the two extremes of^ human society as up to that ^ibeh 
developed-^the Anglo-Saxon race, foremost in freedom and domndon, 
the Negro race, lowest in bondage and exposure to outrage — thd^new 
religious movement gradually, but not slowly, came into toncH W^th 
race alter race, speaking ton^e after tongue. ' 

* Utik somewhat circuitous training through which Weslej^ ha^ l^een 
led kad lifted him to a level commanding a wide honaon/^ that 
arfaen the fire fell, when the heart Iras all adame, when - the mission 
aras no loOger to do a comely duty with a proper zeal, bflt iTas the 
See tlw invaliisble publications ca tke WycHf Society^ 



conv^jfiosi of aU utmm among ev^ kindled and people and tongue, 
his natural utterance, waa i^^ Tte is 

Here^ then, was a pmvipient, originating simply in this . desire, that 
every sinner in the world .should be turned to the Saviour^ who^ not 
in word and in tong^e^ hut in deed and in truths sayes His people 
from their sins. All that any Church, either at home< abroad, had 
ever done towards that end, seemed, therefore, to every Jdethodist 
labourer as what Columbw or Cabot, or Hudson had done semed to 
the men who sought to nmke nations in America. The theology of 
Methodism, indeed, did not quadrate with that of any school then 
prevalent. On the common groundwork of confessed verities Cal- 
vinism based doctrines of Grace and of Eeprobation ; the doctrines 
of grace Methodism gloried*in — those of reprobation it rejected. The 
school which in England was called Arminian, based on the orthodox 
creed, the doctrine of the. love of God to all, of the atoning death of 
Christ for all ; but it often did not teach the depravity of human 
nature, considered bell a word unfit for ears polite, and mumbled Over 
the doctrine of punishment as do dead Churches on the Continent 
now. The sole efficacy of the merit of Christ it failed to teach, as 
also iihe way of justification by faith, and almost utterly forgot the 
work of the Holy Spirit on the soul of man. The Methodists sounded 
the silver trumpet of God s love to all with an unheard-of enthusiasm ; 
Jilt they told also of man’s fall in the tones of both faith and expe- 
rience, and echoed with sovereign conviction every word of the mildest 
but most' terrible of teachers, the Man who Himself incarnated the 
goodness and severity of God.” As to the way of mercy through 
faith, and the work of the Holy Spirit in awakening sinners, com- 
forting penitents, and sanctifying believers, 'coupled with the love of 
God in Christ, that was the song of songs of the Methodist preacher. 
The work of the Comforter was not for him a theological abstraction, 
but aai mych an every-day blessing as the joy of the sun. Beligion 
withouj^HfConsciousness of pardon and without peace of conscience was 
for ]um but the gleaming before the day. The world had long heard 
that Ji^UQwledge'was power ; he went about showing that happiness is 
power.; , The march of his Lord’s kingdom came not with observa- 
tioUj but came meek and lowly/ with song and gladness, and tidings 
of great joy to all people. ’ * * 

His peculiarity lay, nottin what he believed, but in the fact that 
be did belicie with a living force of faith. Hepce his supreme 
earnestness about the heinousness oflsin, and tibie certainty and 
du^ty ^f th|||/vrrath to come; hence his assaults ou all iniquities; 
whether of the high or the delivered with vast momentum of 
moral indignation, that guupo^tkr of the good. Hence his habit of 
taking: redemption as a matter of fact, and dealing .with the miser- 
able sinner whom he had proved to be unspeakably vile — first as cer- 



taiidj BO worse than n^eondly^ as capaiile of being chaDged 

then and there into a^hild of God. Changed by By One 

iFho was in the midst of them, unseen indeed^ bpt alwghty to sare. 

The ecclesiastical system which gradually farmed around this new 
life, as gradually as the plumage upon the growing swan, had all 
the faults of a living growth as contrasted with a manufactured 
article. It did not conform to any known model, and could not be 
kept in any one symmetrical shape. Helgiholtz has said something 
of the faultiness of an eye as compared with scientific instruments, 
and doubtless for the work of any optical machine an eye would not 
do. But how would the machine do for the work of an eye? So, 
though it is impossible with precision to call the ecclesiastical system of 
Methodism, Bpiscopacy, Presbyterianism', or Congregationalism, it 
may, as the new bottle which holds the new wine, be as strong as any 
old one, and more adaptable. They were all as new once, and did 
not all come as simply by growth from within. When I speak of 
the ecclesiastical system of Methodism as adaptable, I do not mean 
adaptable to external pressure. Any organization that ‘ becomes so, 
waxes old in the sense which makes it ready to vanish away. I mean 
adaptable to pressure from within, the pressure, of its own lifer and 
growth. The shell of the jtortoise will shape itself well as the crea- 
ture grows and will he firm enough for its purposes; but if the 
cabinet-maker comes in with rule and plane, he may in mending 
matters mar them. 

In common with the Congregational system, Methodism recog- 
nizes the right of each individual church to regulate its internal 
and private afiairs. For instance, whether a liturgy shall be used 
or not is a question, not for the Conference, but for the local body 
of t^nistees. But, unlike Congregationalism, Methodism holds to a 
union of church with church, as also to a supervision of the ministers 
by the united ministry. In common with Presbyterianism it holds 
the equality of all elders, their identity in order, and the ei^dse of 
discipline over the ministers by the joint pastorate/ and not only over 
churches. Unlike it, however, it also holds that ’ amoug eqimb in 
order may exist a difierence in office, one pastor having precedence 
over a colleague, or two, or more, ^is difference it takes as truly 
representing the bishops of {he apostolic Age. In comolon with 
Episcopacy, Methodism holds to the supervision of rninistm by 
ministers ; to a difference* of office between one minister and ailother ; 
but, unlike Episcopacy, it tottdly denies that between elder and >^der 
there ia any distinction of order, and looks on diocesi^ as 

a pnrely liuman arrangement, and on prelacy with civil sihii' ms a 
mmre political appaidage to church oijganization. t : « : 

Of course, that implies that of such offices as princes of the 
Avatch ** or cardinals, of vicar of Christ or bishop universal, it knows 



nothing at all. It finds that in the ccmstitutlon of the Apostolic 
Church such offices have .neither name nor place, neither foretoken 
nor memorial. 

Por Wesley the Church consisted of all the li\dng members of 
Christ, living by His Spirit dwelling in them. '^The Catholic or 
Universal Church is all the persons in the universe whom God hath 
so called out of the world as to be ^ one body/ united by ' one 
Spirit/ having ' one faith, one Lord, one baptism.^ * ** So far for 
the Universal Church. particular Church may consist of any 

number of members, whether two or three, or two or three millions.^^ 
This being the ideal of Church universal and Church particular, the 
view of schism was determined accordingly. The whole body of 
Eoman Catholics define scBism, a separation from the Church of 
Rome ; and almost all our writers define it, a separation from the 
Church of England. Thus both one and the other set out wrong, and 
stumble at the very threshold.^^f He contended that schism was a 
rent in a Church, not separation from it. 

It might have been almost safely argued that a community suddenly 
brought together, composed in great part of unedudated persons, under 
no obligation to hold any given creed, not formed to model by prelimi- 
nary training, and, moreover, with doors open for the exercise of any 
gift — a community having numbers of laymen, of any and every 
calling, invested with offices both spiritual and of administration — 
would speedily break up. So nearly all wise men foretold. In Balti- 
more, about a century ago, they said : A corn-crib will soon hold all 
the Methodists } and a century later, in Baltimore, President Carlisle, 
from South Carolina, quoting this prediction, did not say that at 
present such accommodation would be too strait, but added : "We 
have thirty 'thousand churches, the number increasing at the rate of 
five for every working day in the year.^^ That includes all the 
United Spates, North and South, and every branch of the Methodist 
family in them. It follows that, strong as were the elements of dis- 
ruption which any clear-sighted observer could detect, somehow 
deeper down were 'forces of cohesion very much stronger still. 

ISie tenacity with •which the early Methodists held to the Church 
of Eki^and has caused, as I hav^e always thought, a hasty censure to 
be passed on the authorities of that Church, as if they alone were 
responsible for the ultimate separation. The strong wish of Wesley 
to postpone separation as long js possible is not, however, more true 
on 'the one hand than is on the other the fact that his views of the 
coxistitution of^the Catholic Church, and of his rights under thapt 
higher latvi were far too broad* for the framework of Anglicanism, and 
also the fact that his action, founded on those views, was greatly, even 

* Wesley’s Works, vol. yi. p. 396. t 

** Proceedings of the Centennial Conference, * p. 165. 



flagrantly, iRegulaor. He not, 'witfloat ‘ breaking tip bis Con- 

nexion, have allowed any pifettober to 'ride ov^ ndM and usages as he 
did. He said. We do not «e|Mrate, only “ vary/' frdin the Chnrch. 
It was weiy -.w^ varying indeed. 1 ^en he defined ^' teiniatini^'^ in 
a manner of his ownt "^hose, and those dnly, septlrale fln^ 'the. 
Church who either' renonnce her fnndamental doctrines or to 
join an her puldic worship.” If so, who has separated OTen ' how? 
So persistent were Wesley’s irregularities that it has always teemed 
tome riiat great indulgence on the part or the bishops was exercised, 
or he would hafve been in every diocese inhibited with rigbnr. 

While it was for preaching justification by faith and the new birth 
that the Methodists were in the first instance shut out of ' the 
churches, it was on the charge of preaching salvation by Works that 
they were cast out from the circles of aristocratic religion. Sturdily 
refusing to own any root of good works but faith, they just as sturdily 
refused to own any evidence of faith but good works. They would 
not allow any theological gloss to alter the fact that bad fruit meant 
a comi|d' tree ; and that it is they only who are led by the Spirit 
of God who are the sons of God. The practices of mob, or college, 
or of " the Lord’s dear people,” were by them relentlessly tested at 
one standard; " He that doeth rightedusness is righteous.” Hence 
great offence ; they were legalists, and many other black things. 

On social grounds also they alienated many. Their for ever 
following up the lowest of the low, and their making fellowritip in 
prayer and praise, in mutual exhortation, in communication of 
experience, a vital function of church life, and with such people, 
natnrally rbpelled the fastidious’ and kept the aristocratic afor ofi*. 
They dignified labour by making it in the ^rst place the support 
ordained of God for every Christian man ; and in the next place by 
showing that highest gifts and holiest offices were to be* recognized, 
no matter with what grade of lowly toil they were linked! Th^ ira 
idter none of the specifics for organizing labour — good' men uiid 
freedom were their cures for the ills of society. . Given these, Ikws 
and institutions would gradually come right. Their mode of ttfixDg 
up the working man necessarily lost to them multitudes the 
educated. Ihey knew the cost, and pursued their calliog. ’ 

On politicd gronnds also tHey were dften in peril ; th^ 
confused multitudes, they excited the vulgar, they 
meetmgs ]^e«nmed to be secret ; they surely must mean' iHSifiiilef. 
Iffideed,-I^sli^ was an agent of the French — ay, an emitti^"#^ 
moreorevj a Jesuit: did he not last. 
witii mik >'hsta CmmWdl the Fretendef, disguised as 
Nee^vew^tfae ")JiuMflflte8 dh his side: his intense 'Profo^bDi^^ Ids 
Hng^ Hberty w«s founded at th<e Bevblilitfon, and 
hie lov#^ the Jneg, jlrdve them off ; 'ifot to spealrof 'hii eatinfate of 



High Churchmen. you imagine there are no High Churchmen 

left? Did they all die with Dr. Sacheverel? Alaa^ how little do 
you know of mankind 1 Were the present restraint taken off, you 
would see them swarming on every side, and gnashing upon, yon 
with theit teeth,”* This illustrates his profound conviption that only 
a solid pivil government could and would protect religious liJbefty. 

^or yet did Wesley conciliate the crowd, at whose mmrey he so 
often lay. In the^affair of Wilkes he wrote against and defied the 

patriot mob." During Che American . war he repeatedly .wrote in 
favour of the king ; and evidently was as greatly misinformed of the 
course and bearing of events in that struggle as were many of our 
public men on thgse of the War of Secession. He affronted merchants 
by his .invectives against what was called "the African trade,^^ and 
even by stigmatizing wrongs in the Indian one. His terrific denun- 
ciation of the distillers and their trade must have made him many 
and fiery enemies. He hurt landowners and moneyed farmers by 
writing against the sweeping away of small farms for great ones. 
Numbers of adherents were lost by each of those causes^ . Some 
would feel : If Mr. Wesley only conciliated the authorities, and 
respected order, his usefulness would be immeasurably increased ; and 
others would feel : If he only set himself to lead popular aspirations,, 
he wo\ild carry all before him. Of both kinds he lost many ; but 
Wesley believed in a single eye. 

In Ireland he set the example of confronting the disaffected with 
open and loving loyalty, and yet of discouraging fighting Protestantism,, 
and of showing to the Roman Catholic people unaffected goodwilL 
Conscious of being in daily danger, •protected only by the twofold 
shield of an unseen Providence and a British force, he never attempted 
to curry popular favour by political compliances. When all hearta 
were. sinking* because of reverses in America, perils in Burope, unrest 
in England, he wrote a " Compassionate Address " to the people, in. 
wi^ch hjB flung fears to the wind as he would sawdust. Instead o£ 
me<^ng the chronic^ scare of insurrection by trembling as a man idien 
frqpirall frith might naturally do ; instead of clothing his spectre in 
tfie /sMbboleth of unbelief as " irresistible forces," Wesley, whose 
creed knew of no irresistible foreJes, but taught that if you resist the- 
de^j]bi?^will Jee from you— whose creed knew of only one invincible 
forc6yJ4ibe±Aluiighty' power of God — ^replied to this effect.: If indeed 
the insurgents .should **give laudanum to all the liege subject f^in the 
fonft proriuces " and they should sleep tilUthe foe " cut off th^ heads 
at ^stroke/* then the country would be in a sad condition.i "But 
till, you need no more be afraid of ten thousand White 
thousand cows.”t So did the man whom God 
raisj^ UR these, realms from Voltaire and his disciples pasa 

^ Worki^ voj^ xi. p..l3a> f JbiA. yoL ri. p. 152. 



thiwigh the chaotic yean that ]»teceded Grattan’a Parliament, and in 
the same a^t of love to the people and legality to. the Government 
did Ua' defenceless itinarants tiuead the byways during thb-anoceeding 
era of confused noise and gsuments, rolled in blood, from iriurii. tiie 
country was rescue^ by the' Union, la the years of peace wl^cb.then 
came m, Graham, Ooseley, tmd their fellows reaped such harmts as 
they never reaped be£u% — ^harvests whereof the fmit grows in every 
province Canada and every State of the great Union. Th^ did 
not cease thrir perih>us rounds or change their manly voice even in 
the honms of the civil war of 1798. What a blast would Wesley 
have blown had he seen the day when the Irish Methodists were 
presented vrith the sapient advice to open to themselves a broad road by 
turning Home Rulers! Such a fancy reminded me of what some 
men in Italy in 18G0, during the great revolution, would sagely say, 
that Protestants had only to show strong hatred of the priests, and 
they would carry the whole country with them, for. all Italians so 
hated the priests. They who can put faith in such expedients do not 
see the'^bep currents in a great stream of national life — scarcely see 
the surface, only the shimmer above it. True, the Italians hated the 
priests, because the law bad permitted them to feel their tyranny in 
the first place as the most voracious of “ land-grabbers,” and in the 
second place as the directors, when not the incumbents, of the civil 
power. True also, that in Ireland the law had prevented the people 
firom feeling their tyranny in either of these two important particulars, 
and that the priest had on system made himself their champion against 
the tyranny of landlords, and against the civil authorities. Rut the 
scale upon which conversions ard to be effected will never depeud on 
any trimming of your sails to the passing wind. The kingdom of 
Christ, advancing as it does by its own purely spiritual forces, cannot 
lean upon the temporal arm without stooping. You ma^ solicit the 
secular power in two ways : by courting those who ard mighty by 
station, or those who are mighty by numbers. The two processes are 
one : in both the Church wooes the State, but in pue case kisses the 
hand, in the other the toe. By either course Wesley, in his day, «nd 
Methodism since his day, might haj^d made gaips and avoided lotses. 
To both courses in my own day niafiy have counselled in the ri^bt 
ear and the left. By adoptlhg eithef course Wesley would bitre 
ceased to be Wesley, and Methodism would have ceasf^ to be 
Methodism, and the world would now have to do with somethiog 
flltogetha different. * 

* Often as Wesley wrote on public questions, he did so, not as a 
Methodist, but as a citizen. When, like him, Fletcher. dluiw%.the 
Aniericau War wrote on the side of the king, the liord „0i8ncrilor, 
softer he hiri present^ the pamphlet to his Majesty, sent to know what 
woold be acceptable to 4he Shropslure vicar. ” I went notoing, but 



more grace/^ was the reply. That should stand for ever as the reply 
of^ Methodism as a whole, and of every Methodist preacher as an 
individual — the reply, whether at the foot of the throne or in face of 
the crowd. 

But how did the system subsist if it hed no public resources on 
the one hand, and no popular support on the other hand ? I do not 
know how, and do not pretend to know, any more than I know how 
the lilies of t^ie field get their clothes. What I do know is, that the 
system has had its rents, Its times of stunting, its faults and failures 
in sufficient plenty, to exclude boasting ; but, sdmehow, here it is. 
When the homely company set out, intending to go in|x> all “ the 
parish, they had not two coats, but only one. Between them and 
the weather they had only the homespun made by the children ** ; 
no goodly garment from the king’s store ; and yet the one coat is 
not worn out — " their clothes waxed not old.’^ They dispersed widely, 
and often traversed places where they could say with their chief ; 

This is an excellent country for finding an appetite, but a poor 
one for finding a meal.” Yet to-day, not certainly in rT ;>ect of 
courtly graces, but in respect solely of the growth of living churches, 
they ^are ready, after their long course “ of pulse to eat and water to 
drink,^^ to. say ; Let our countenances be looked upon before thee, 
and the countenances of the children that eat of the king^s meat, and 
as seest, deal with thy servants.^' And the only dealing with 
sought by them is continued leave to live according to their own 
conscience. But endanger that, and it is life or death ! 

The company took to rough roads; and had no other shoes for 
their feet than such as they weref fold would somehow be provided 
by " the Gospel of Peace.^^ But seldom did they get a lift from 
those who rode in chariots, yet sometimes they did, and sent them 
on their way to preach in palaces, while they plodded over clods and 
stones. They have travelled far ; the bridle-paths of the Alleghanies 
and the *B>ocky Mountains knew them before they knew many 
others ; so did the snow tracks of the Saskatschewan, the forest 
trails of New Zealand, and the hot hillsides of Africa. To-day some 
of them are on the yplands of Mexico, and some on the shores of 
Japan’; some will to-night guidb their track by the Southern Cross, 
some by the aurora borealis, and some Uy the current of the Yang-tsi ; 
some wi&sup to the sound of tom-toms in India, and some to the 
negro eong. After their day^s^ work some will lie down by the 
Thames, some where the Ganges runs, some where the Congo ; and 
all will say, A day^s march nearer home,*^ But how have they 
travelled such a journey, and sO poorly shod ? I do not Jluow : I only 
know thqjr feet swelled not." 

Bags that wax not old," having to serve the Church for both 
worlds, have the^ defect of being invisible, ,a defect irremediable to 

VOL. Lll. * o 



tlie worldly politician^ but to me they seem likely to wear better 
than some others^ which, solid though they be, are often, for the pur- 
poses of those who have nothing to do but regenerate the whole 
earth, bags with holes/^ Asbury, the first Bishop in America, a 
hardy son of the Black Country, whose work for mankind will loom 
large on the future, said of a proposed church and school, I have no 
reason to believe that our well-laid plans will be executed. Our 
preachers are unskilful, and our friendjs have little money.^' A 
shrewd man of the world, any year from tne beginning till now, would 
have said as much of the whole body. Yet in the paper already 
quoted. Dr. Carlisle says that in the United States the sum raised 
in 1883 for all purposes, by all branches of Methodists, was about six 
millions sterling. A hint as to the international bearing of all 
this is dropped when, in alluding to the war of 1812-14, he says : 

Which we hope is to be known all through our future history as 
the last war with England.'^ If others try to make enemies of 
England and America, Methodism has done much to make them 

Looking at such bodies as the Methodists were when their first 
regularly educated leaders, the Wesleys, Fletcher, and a few others, 
were gone, it might have been expected that they would sink into 
ignorance, going downward from father to son. That is what the 
One Book never allows any people to do. One of the very popular 
writers of modern Italy tells with real excitement of a visit to that 
terra incognita, the Waldensian valleys. AVhen he had penetrated to 
the last cover where refuge used to be sought in extremities, the 
vale of Agrogna, lo and behold ’! there in the wild, a girl seated on 
the ground buried in a book.^ I had never seen an Italian girl 
reading in that way before.'^ Just so : but had not the heel of the 
persecutor held down the Bible, many a peasant girl would have read 
good books. Methodism then had but its One Book to begin with, 
and, like the Waldenses, had all the universities, seminaries, and 
literati against it. In England, not only was higher education so 
controlled as to educate away from it any whom their parents sent 
to college; but even primary schools it was obliged to raise at 
heavy cost owing to the same process. But " the life is the light of 
men,” and in this matter alsoT the life struggled up from under the 
clay, by degrees emerging into the sun. The same struggle may be 
marked in the progress of the Primitive Methodists, as well .as in that 
of the less conspicuous bodies, and is well illustrated in the case of 
Communities of ex-slaves and their colleges. Taking America alone, 
where no outlay for primary schools burdened the Churches, the 
amount of property invested in academies and colleges stated at 
about two millions two hundred thousand pounds,^^ t the 
' * **AUe Forte dltalia.*’ t '^Fro^ediogs of Centennial Conference,*’ p. 165. 

methoAist reunion. 


students at some fifty thousand, of whom five thousand take a regu- 
lar college course/^ Where did the means come from ? The reverent 
reply is, The Lord knows.” 

The wonder was, not that in the progress of a community so con- 
stituted both diversities and divisions should arise, but that they 
did not soon destroy it. Of the difierent bodies now in exist- 
ence some came by division, some grew up as it were insensibly out 
of diversity. The largesji English body after the parent one, the 
Primitive Mevhodists, as also the Bible Christians, may be named 
as of the latter kind. Where division arose, in some cases it came 
because innovators did not wait for the patient ways of constitutional 
reform, but urged on in agitation till dread of revolution arising, 
breakers 'of rule and alarmed authority came into collision. In other 
cases it arose because the opponents of innovation refused to submit 
to the majority, and to accept the settlement arrived at by the regular 
course. There has been no division for the last thirty-five years ; 
and, as has been indicated, no questions of either schism or heresy 
exist as between the difierent branches. During the last generation 
a steady increase of good feeling and brotherly kindness has marked 
the relations of these, one to the other. So also has it been with the 
relations between Methodists and other denominations within that 
period. I sometimes read of the fierce attacks of the sects on 
one«another ; but, for my own part, do not know what it means. The 
Methodists nevbr made much headway in Scotland, but from no 
denomination there, established or nonconforming, do I hear of fierce 
attacks, and often hear of acts of fellowship and good service. If 
the remarkable book of Mr. J. Guinness Rogers on the " Church 
Systems of the Nineteenth Century,^^ in its generous handling of the 
Methodists, ^nd its modest handling of his own denomination, is a 
specimen of the bitterness of which we often hear, I think it easy 
to bear. ,To my owm knowledge, for fifty years there has been a 
steady growth of good feeling among Protestants of all denominations. 

In America mstny years ago an important union was efiected 
between two great Presbyterian bodies. The same actually took place 
in Ireland, and also in Scotland, wliere it constituted the United Presby- 
terian Church; a union on a smaller but important scale was also 
etfected in England. These various unions have worked well. 
Among the Methodists in Canada all the bodies in the Dominion have 
joined into one ; and in Ireland the only two considerable ones 
have done so. In 1881 all branches of Ihe Methodist family held an 
(Ecun^enical Conference in City Road Chapel, London. The ^^call" 
to that assembly was issued by a joint committee which met at Cincin- 
nati the year previously, during the quadrennial General Conference. 
In that committee sat together representatives of episcopal and non- 
episcopal churches, of American and Canadian ones, of some composed 

G 2 



of Afncans^ and of some which formerly were slareholding ; of 
churches North and Souths of bodies of recent date, and of the two 
old Conferences in England and Ireland over which Wesley himself 
used to preside. Yet no punctilio, either ecclesiastical or international, 
was raised. On the contrary, the American brethren, on their own 
soil, and representing by very far the largest numbers, put into the chair 
the non-episcopal representative of the British Conference, though 
two bishops from the North and two froi^ the South were present. 
Indeed, it was bishops who moved me into the chair. Still more, 
on the call the great ni^me ofr Bishop Simpson, heading those 
of the Americans, was set after not only the representatives from 
England and Ireland, but also after those from Canada. Promise 
of peace, not only between denominations, but between' nations, 
between sections of a nation not long previously rent in twain, and 
between races which had acted the parts of oppressor and oppressed, 
was then felt with tokens of blessing. When the CEcumenical Con- 
ference met, it made no attempt to initiate organic unions. Among 
members of the Southern Church from America, and among those of 
minor bodies here some apprehension was felt that the leading body 
in each country might urge such stepi. More was gained by -culti- 
yation of goodwill and by reasons seen for mutual respect than would 
have been gained by attempts to precipitate unions. 

Many years previous to the (Ecumenical Conference, a union 
between the parent body and the New Connexion had been talked of. 
Changes in the constitution of the former had materially lessened the 
obstacles to such a union. TJhe project has been of late revived, 
though not as yet in any definite shape. In his very able book on 
Church Organization Dr. Bigg points out the difficulties in the way^ 
and even what appear to him to be objections; Dr. Watts, of the 
New Connexion, publishes a pamphlet in reply ; and qertaiuly both 
writers add to the difficulties. There is, however, this difference, that 
in so doing Dr. Bigg does what he aimed at, and Dr. Watts 
does the opposite of what he aimed at. Bf putting in a plea 
for republicanism, he adds great force to the fear of political views 
being the motive in certain quarter^ He ha^ lived in Canada, and 
must know that there as weli^as here republicanism would mean revo- 
lution, just as in America or France monarchism would da He 
pleads for a commonwealth, by which name men understand England 
as under Oliver. I dou”bt whether»liberty, as it existed under him, 
would be more to Dr. Watts’ mind than as it exists under Queen 
Victoria. Whether religious liberty, as exemplified in Switzerland, is 
surer or more precarious than here, the Salvation Army can tell. 
One of the best of Frenchmen, who long held the chair of Ancient 
History in the Sorbonue, said to me after the crash of 1870 : " Eepublic 
yes. In France we. could no( have a monarchy such as yours. 



Under the name of a monarchy England is the freest republic in the 
worlds and under the name of republics South America is covered 
with military despotisms.^’ Even apart from his political display. 
Dr. Watts’ handling of some denominational points is not of a 
nature to facilitate union; though on others his explanations are so. 
Yet while both he and Dr. Bigg have added to the difficulties, my 
impression is, that on carefully weighing what both advance, men will 
come to feel that the real|€bstacles are not formidable, and that time, 
with the mutual respect which both*objector and advocate manifest, 
with brotherly goodwill and ai^honest determination on all sides 
neither to push nor be pushed, will open the way. 

Dr. Watts does not know Dr. Rigg well. When the memoirs 
appeared *of a remarkable man, the Rev. George Steward, who in 
the time of the last division left Methodism and joined the Congre- 
gationalists, they gave some of his remarks on a great committee of 
ministers to weigh points in dispute ; in which he expresses surprise at 
the liberality of many, including Dr. Beecham, the President. 
Giving the initials of two men, he said they are more liberal than 
myself.” Of these, one was R.” Now if R was liberal, he 
nevei^ proved it by championing the people to the people’s face, but 
by serving them behind their backs. ^ That is the true Methodist spirit. 
It was ministers and laymen, who, before the people were, as far as 
iihey could be, for the Conference, and before the ministers were, as far 
as they could be, for the people, who brought about a state of increas- 
ing confidence within and more cordial relations to those without. 

The obstacles to union in Ireland were certainly greater than Dr. 
Rigg imagines. They were such that, had any one thrust on the 
movement, even after it had been formally mooted in both Confer- 
ences, probably it never would have been effected. Certainly it would 
not had any suspicion of political ends been aroused. In face of seve- 
ral checks^ patience was shown ; time alone ripened the growth. The 
results of it very nearly answer to the forecasts of sober men. Results 
of measures which ^re only wise and useful, not portentous, iisver do 
answer to the forecasts of those who, when they take up a movement, 
think that it will work wonders, .any more than to the forecasts of 
those who, when they resist one, always think it will work ruin. As 
to Canada also. Dr. Rigg’s view of the antecedent facility is too 
strong, and his view of the success decidedly too unfavourable. If 
the conditions as between the New Connexion and the parent body 
are not more difficult than in those two cases- — and I do not know 
that thpy are so — brotherly kindness will in time make all plain. 

In America the era of cordial relations has fairly set in, the great 
Centennial Conference there having well advanced the work of the 
first (Ecumenical one. How soon the era of organic unions, after the 
manner of Canada, will arrive, I do not predict, nor yet to what 



length such unions will extend. So far as I know men there, they 
are wise and large — not men likely to dash at unions as though they 
were to be done at a stroke. They will love one another^ and meet 
and take their time, and unions will gently grow. Not that I ever 
heard any maai of judgment say that he would wish for uniformity 
in Methodism, any more than in Christianity as a whole. 

For my own part, it is a settled principle that vital unity has 
diversity as its counterpart. The idea of the world under any one 
political head, and its offspring the idea of a world-church under one 
ecclesiastieo-political head, is the halfhcination which has caused more 
bloodshed than any other. It defaces the divine ideal of unity among 
accountable creatures, which is that of liberty, leading to diversity, 
and of charity accepting the diversity. IMore than thirty years ago, 
an excellent clergyman of the Church of England consulted me on a 
project for incorporating the Methodists with that Church. I said : 

'We should go to sleep together. Our liberty of action would 
not survive, put what you might on paper; and as for you, you 
require a certain amount of friction on the skin to keep up your 
activity.^^ I well remember how Lord Shaftesbury smiled when 
I told him, for the gentleman ha(l been to him; and ovi his 
saying that he took the same viqw, I added that, as between the 
Wesleyans and Primitive Methodists, I should put the case in very 
similar terms. That prosperous family of Churches has sprung up 
beside us and among us in peace, and its influence has often stirred 
up sluggish "Wesleyans. I should not move a finger in anything that 
would hamper or stiffen it. If we are ever to sit together in one 
Conference, gentle ways of providential prepamtion will quietly lead 
to the goal. 

No one ever heard me advise any man to sit looso to his own 
denomination, much less advise any community to sit loose to its 
principles, whether of doctrine or of discipline. Throughout life I 
have found the best men, and the most genial workers in eatholic 
undertidiings, to be those who were soundly attached to their own 
denominations. Even to the smallest bodies I should say : Never 
merge yourselves in a larger one^ so long ‘as you believe that 
any scriptural principle in /loctrine . or discipline would be sacri- 
ficed. As soon as you believe that such would not be the case, 
you can with a good conscience look at all other points, A small 
community standing on its principles is always to be profoundly 
respected, and may wdeld vast influence. How much does mankind 
owe in thp last century to the Society of Friends ! A largie com- 
munity loose about doctrine or discipline is of small power, as either 
the salt or the light of the world. It is easily manipulated by men 
professedly of it, but really politicians, who want it for political ends. 
In proportion to mass, what has been the speed in the race for " going 



into all the world of the " multitudinist ” churches of the Con- 
tinent, with the virtually Universalist teaching of most of their 
ministers ? And little as their progress has been, it would have been 
vastly less, but for the incursion, detested it is true, of English and 
American evangelists, who are in earnest about salvation and per^- 
tion. A large community has no right to order a smaller one to 
go out of existence, because it thinks its own foundations are broad 
enough for both. That a question for the smaller one.. The 
moment it can with a fre^and true heart say, Looking into your 
principles we* can cordially accept them, and looking into your 
application of them we can without compromise of conscience do so 
too, provided certain minor arrangements are mutually agreed upon,’^ 
the way is* opened to a unfon honourable on both sides. Compre- 
hension without compromise, I have always contended, was the true 
genius of the Christian Church. Jerusalem with its Temple rites, 
Antioch with its many Gentiles uncircumcised, Corinth with its 
loose order, were three types of Churches differing perhaps more 
widely than docs any one Methodist body from another. They 
neither insisted on uniformity nor abandoned unity. When a pro- 
posed^ union is not looked upon in the light of bringing the erring to 
repentance, but as a fraternal arrangement for more efficiently prose- 
cuting the work of Christas company, it is easy to regard it calmly. 
Cc/H{sideration.s of ruin or redemption do not enter in — only those of 
greater or less usefulness. Therefore I should .say to advocates. No 
zeal ; and to objectors, lie not too much afraid. 

Wm. Arthur. 


I N undertaking a rapid survey of the Franco-German frontier in 
its military aspects^ and a brief inspection of the various bul- 
vFarks which have been erected between Germany and France by 
Nature or Art for purposes of defenccA or attack, I feel sure that my 
short sketch (which must occasionally carry me over into Switzerland 
and ^Belgium) will be followed with interest at a time when all cj^es 
are eagerly directed towards that frontier, which was settled after a 
severe struggle a few years ago, and may perhaps have to be soon 
settled again by a more severe struggle still. For more than a thou- 
sand years the western frontier of Germany has been a contested 
one. There the Germans have all along fought with the French for 
the beautiful districts of the Meuse, the Moselle, and the Khine, and 
every footbreadth of the soil has been under a continilal process of 
exchange, being now reckoned to the one country, and now to the 
other. France, united in itself, and ruled by a powerful m^onarchical 
government, furnished the first handle for that policy which continued 
for a thousand years under the most various forms, of government, 
and never rested until Germany, weakened by political and religious 
divisions, and destitute of all naticAiul cohesion, had been deprived 
even of those territories which had -belonged to her by the closest 
ties of nationality, and by the history of a thousand years ; so that the 
Khine again, as in Caesar’s time, became the' boundary of the two 
countries. Nay, the great. Corsican was not content with bringing 
pnder the French sceptre every country to the left of the Rhine, from 
Sasle to its mouth, but, as fhe tete-de-pont of his work for securing 
this territory, he cut off the Rhenish confederation from Germany, 
and pushed his boundary marks into Westphalia and Hesse. 

In 1870 the tale of Germany’s thousand years of sorrow ended ; 



the Rhine legend was pushed back^ and the German arms^ successful in 
war, took possession again of her old property ; and since that time, 
French Chauvinism, that secret but sometimes very loud-toned reli- 
gion of the French, has in its historical and ethnographical ignorance 
still called for what are termed natural frontiers/^ From that 
year till now, no French Government has dared to confess that the 
Treaty of Frankfort put an end to this historical claim, and that France 
must now be content witluher present geographical configuration. 

But it is because these two powerfully armed civilized nations — the 
Germans and^he French — are so irreconcilable in the ideals of life they 
strive after, that we hear their swords clash so unceasingly, and sooner 
or later the saying must again come true, that " Life is war ; it is only 
the dead who have peace, and keep it.^^ Is it possible for Germany to 
retain peace if she is neither to suffer herself to be disturbed in her 
own homestead rights, nor yet, as in former days, to lend her soil as a 
threshing-floor for the battles of the nations ? How long, in the 
present strained state of political relations, German sagacity and 
German love of peace may succeed in preventing a war with France, 
no one can tell. Human and social development is less guided now 
thaik in former days by the calculations of the understanding or the 
higher requirements of human culture, and we must neither deride 
the times nor lament them, but merely understand them, with all 
tiioir vehement demands : we must therefore reflect that it is impos- 
sible to enter successfully on gfsevere and a historical conflict with small 
means; that the kind of emergency may come suddenly on us over- 
night, when the highest wisdom lies in the highest boldness ; and that, 
so far as our preparations are defective, a sorrowful " to-morrow 
will not only follow upon, but follow out of the “ yesterday In 
this way shall we borrow from the lightnings on the other side of the 
Vosges nothing but a light that shall show the strength of the forti- 
fications of the neighbouring nations. 

The German or Alsace-Lorraine frontier with France,^ from 
Delle (south of Belfort) to Longwy, as the crow flies some 250 
kilometres long, has no natural boundary-line except for a short 
stretch of some 90 -kilometres in the Vosg:cs. This reaches from 
Belfort to the source of the Saar. At the latter place the frontier 
loaves the mountains and runs for some 100 kilometres over a flat 
country, broken by only a few low valleys, till it comes upon the 
Moselle a few kilometres south of Metz.* Here, after crossing the 
river to the steep left bank, it proceeds northwards to Luxemburg, 
for 50 kilometres in a line almost parallel with the river, and ar -a 
mean distance of 15 kilometres from it. Although the frontier 

* For this paper I have used 0*Grady*s “ Uebersichtskarte von nordostlichen Frank- 
reich nebst Grenzliindern ” (Cassel : Theodor Fischer). It is small in compass and 
very trustworthy, and indicates the French fortifications very clearly. 



extends along northern Lorraine, the old debateable land between 
France and Germany, without offering anything for the critical 
military eye, the historical ground over which and along which it 
passes recalls both to German and French minds the heroic 
struggles on the fields of Vionville, Mjirs-la-Tour, Saint-Privat, 
Gravelotte, and others. Where the frontier is open the art of man 
has erected, especially on the French side, the bulwarks which 
Nature withheld. Before 1870 the frontier was constituted by the 
Rhine from Basle to the mouth of the Lauter, and from there west- 
Avard it diverged at right angles along the Palatinate; btit,a8.a result 
of the war of that year Germany obtained a better frontier, the 
hypothenuse of the previous one, so that neither the Rhine nor the 
Moselle is now a military obstacle to Germany, while they are both 
military obstacles for France. 

Let us begin the military inspection in upper Alsace, in a quarter 
which is not protected by German fortifications or by natural 
boundaries, and on which it is possible for France, leaning on Belfort 
in the foreground, and on Besan^oii farther back, to make an attack, 
because the operating sphere of Neu-Breisach, the centre for the 
roads from Colmar to Freiburg, and by the Hbllentlial from Swabia, 
does not reach very far south. A French attack in this quarter 
would in the first place threaten Upper Alsace and Upper Baden, 
rich districts, containing large and prosperous towns. TIic enemy 
who should attempt the invasion of th^ territory with a great army 
would certainly be brought to a standstill by the German forces in 
Alsace-Lorraine, who could march up and cut ofl’ his communications 
even before help could arrive from the south German fortress of 
Ulm on the spot at all. For these forces are four lines of railway, 
of which two are double rows, running through Alsace-Lorraine to 
the sources of the Danube, and through them it is possible to throw 
a strong body of troops rapidly on the left flank of the rear of a 
French army moving towards Stuttgart and Munich. The lines are 
these : — Metz, Zabern, Schlettstadt, Breisach, Freiburg ; Metz, 
Hagenau, Schlettstadt ; Metz, Zweibrucken, Lautcrbilrg, Strassburg, 
Appenweier or Freiburg to Donaueschingen ; Trier, Homburg, Ger- 
mersheim, Carlsruhe, Appenweier, Pforzheim, or Rottweil to 
Sigmaringen. In this way tfce march of a French army on the 
Black Forest would be in a measure flanked, so that if it could not 
make its basis of operations on thci Upper Rhine in Switzerland, it 
could hardly succeed in returiling again to Belfort without cata- 
strophe. As opposed to German troops, however, for whom the 
changeful country north-east of Belfort seems almost to have been 
made, mere French demonstrations would prove all the sooner useless, 
because in this case the efficient German railways would have an 
important voice in the matter. 



From the open gate of Belfort^ as has been already said^ the 
frontier between French and German possessions runs along the 
ridge of the Vosges, to become at a later point in Lorraine a merely 
political boundary again. 

If now we turn northwards to the fortress of Neu Breisach, we 
stand on the military territory which was acquired by Germany in 
1870-71 by conquest, and which stretches over Diedenhofen to the 
Luxemburg frontier. Frcjm the 111 there beckons to us the afacient 
Munster, the alarm-post of Alsace, arid a name presses on the ear 
like the sound of a legendary forest, the name of Strassburg. This 
famous old free city of the empire bears to-day German colours, and 
has cast itself under the shield of the empire. That shield, however, 
is so shaped that there is at this moment only one fortification which 
exceeds Strassburg in physical extent, and that is Paris. The en- 
trenched camp on the 111, which is the creation of German engineers, 
can accommodate 280,000 men ; in front it is protected by the forts 
Grand Duke of Baden and Crown Prince, which are supported on the 
r’ght by the forts Podbielski, Boon, Moltke, and Fransecky (at the 
mouth of the 111) ; and on the left by the forts Bismarck, Crown 
Prince of Saxony, Tann, Werder, and Schwarzhoff. The girdle of 
defences on the right bank of the Rhine consists of the forts Kirch- 
bach, Bose, and Blumenthal. 

A railway circuit connects the forts with the railway lines that 
issue in the place* of arms ; the town is in telegraphic connection 
with the forts, and the forts with one another, by means of a sub- 
terranean cable. But the chief work is naturally the town itself, 
with its improved and fortified wall, which can itself be encircled 
on three sides by a belt of water (of course not continuous) from the 
111, the Rhone Canal, and the Rhine. 

The following facts may serve to give some idea of the extent 
oi this fortified place. The forts lie from 5 to 8 kilometres 
distant from the wall of the town, and 3 or 4 kilometres from 
one another. The diameter of the entrenched ground is 14 kilo- 
metres, while the diameter of an enemy's line of enclosure would 
be at least 26 kilorfietres, and. the besieger would have to invest 
a circuit of 80 kilometres. At Paris the chain of outer forti- 
fications erected recently round the town forms an ellipse from 
west to east, with . a length of 40 kilometres, and a width of 
30. These figures will assist in making *a comparison of the two 

A^ Paris lies on both banks of the Seine, so does the German place 
of arms, of which Bitsch is a detached outpost, lie on both sides 
of the Rhine. Paris and Strassburg alike possess inexhaustible 
military resources, and command an extensive and fruitful territory. 
Strassburg, the focus of the railway system of Central Europe, and the 



meeting-point of the canals between the Rhine and Rhone and the 
Rhine and Marne, is as advantageouslj situated from' a commer- 
cial and political as from a strategical point of view. Not only has 
Mercury settled here, but here also Mars wields the sceptre. Five 
days^ march northwest of Strassburg, on a huge erratic rock (Saint- 
Quentin), lies the very ancient town of Metz, which the Moselle flows 
through, and which was, till 1870, the chief defence of the eastern 
frontier of France, but is i\ow the watch-tower from which the 
German eagle jealously guards the territory she won by blood and 
iron. We are here at the ancient and now new frontier of Ger- 
many, and stand on its very westmost edge, fr6m whence the storm- 
clouds have so often broken over the German land. The battle- 
fields surrounding distant Metz are huge graveyards, in which 
the heroes of. two noble nations slumber together in the great 
Night ; they are places of horror and woe to German mothers and 
French alike, but they are landmarks left by history as she moves 
with iron step on her ever onward course. Here is the rock where 
German and Gaul touch so closely, and where political storms 
have so often brewed and burst ; and this rock has become for the 
Germans the watch-tower of their country. For Metz, already* very 
strong by Nature, has been greatly strengthened, both for defence 
and attack, by the erection of some new detached forts, and forms a 
true front bulwark, which cuts into French territory, and makes 
it possible to move a German army rapidly ou^ the Meuse, The 
nine detached posts of Metz bear the following names : Hindersin, 
Goben (formerly Queuleu), Manteuffel (formerly Saint- Julien), 
Zastrow (formerly Les Bottesj, Prinz August von Wurtemberg 
(formerly Saint-Privat), Prinz Friedrich Carl (formerly Saint- 
Quentin), Manstein (with an armour-plated tower), Alvcpsleben (for- 
merly Plappeville), and Kamecke (formerly Woippy), with two armour- 
plated towers. The burden of the responsibility for guarding this im- 
portant place is laid on and borne by the hills of the neighbourhood, 
but behind these fortified hills there is also an inner girdle of 
protection, which consists in the power of producing si genuine Dutch 
inundation. ' 

Not only is Metz the basis of the Lorraine theatre of war, but the 
predominant strategical advantages of lines of operation directed 
from this strong fortress assign to the place . a decisive influence 
extending far beyond the limits of- Lorraine. The two fortified 
places on the Rhine and the Moselle — Strassburg and Metz — 
are from their situation and construction the head and handle of 
a strategical lever — viz., of the basis of operations which reaches 
from the Vosges to the Moselle,^ and in contemplating which one 
necessarily thinl^s of the strategiqal ofiensive. As they were 
formerly bulwarks of France against Germany, they are now 



bulwarks of Germany against France^ for they do more than merely 
strengthen the defences of Alsace and Lorraine. They supply 
protection to upper Germany, the Bavarian Palatinate of the Rhine, 
and the Rhine Province, as the glacis supplies protection to the fort. 
The position of Strassburg and Metz, resting on good railway and 
road connections to the north and east, will, in the event of war, 
enable a large body of troops to be speedily brought to the front. 

Strassburg is the starting-point of an army for operations in 
Alsace, in the Vosges, or on the Meurthe. It is from Strassburg that 
the enemy’s columns, breaking over the ridge of the Vosges, would, 
with the help of the highly developed railway system, be driven 
back among the mountains. In conjunction with Neu-Breisacb, 
50 kilomeltres farther up th*e Rhine, on its left bank, Strassburg is 
the visible menace against the march of a hostile army into Baden 
at any point higher up the river. Metz, by its natural defences, 
together with the art of the engineer, makes up for the*want of 
all other protection in unfortified Lorraine. In 1871 it was 
counted equal in strength to 100,000 men, and through its possession 
Germany would to that extent be stronger in any new war. As 
Strassburg and Neu-Breisach command the Upper Rhine, so Metz 
and its neighbour Diedenhofen, 25 kilometres distant, command 
the Moselle, and raise a threatening finger against the French metro- 
polis, which is only eight days* march away. A direct double line 
of railway connecta Metz with Berlin, and furnishes the means of 
transporting the military forces of North Germany as expeditiously 
as possible. While Strassburg lies in the iplain, and commands it to 
a great distance around, Metz rises 'proudly on a height. Besides 
Neu-Breisach and Diedenhofen, there is also Bitscb, which com- 
mands the S,trassburg-Metz Railway and the roads leading from the 
Palatinate to Lorraine, and which has been much strengthened by 
foriifications, while the fortresses of Pfalzburg and Schlettstadt have 
been razed. The railway system of Alsace and Lorraine has been 
planned with a view to a speedy concentration of German troops on 
the western frontier of the country. 

So far, then, we have traced ^the military profile which Germany 
has established in Alsace and Lorraine, but behind that profile we 
perceive a second line of defence — Sn older one, dating from the 
time before 1871, which is formed by the fortresses of Ulm, Rastatt, 
Mayence, Coblentz, Cologne, and Wesel, and which, in combination 
with the two great places already mentioned, constitute a system of 
fortifi^cations which can neither be taken nor passed, and through 
which it would be very difficult for a French general to lead an 
army successfully, in order to fetch the marshaPs baton from 
beyond the Rhine.”* ^ 

* GeneFsl^Chanzy. 



Let us now consider the means of defence with which the French 
have supplied their frontier. After the loss of Strassburg and Metz 
they adopted in 1872 a new plan of defence for their country, in 
which, as may be easily conceived, the eastern frontier played the 
chief part. This plan has been already carried out, and the 
strategical wall against Germany has been completed long ago ; but 
the French are never done discovering gaps in it which require to 
be filled up — such, for example, as thq gap of the Ardennes.^' 
Neither money nor labour has been spardd hermetically to seal the 
eastern frontier, and after examining the French fortified camps, the 
places of secondary rank, with detached forts of all kinds, and other 
sorts of defences, one is obliged to admit that a masterpiece of en> 
gineering lias been here accomplished, afid that it has not unnaturally 
become the favourite child of the nation. The belt of fortifications, 
from Belfort through Epinal and Tour to Verdun, cannot be denied 
the credit of being a great Tvork of defence ; and we must acknow- 
ledge that this line of works utilizes with conspicuous skill the 
strategical points in the geographical situation. 

In the south, at the junction of the Swiss and German frontiers, 
Belfort, situated on the Savoureuse, Ijas through its position at the 
gate of Burgundy, that important and frequented highway of the 
nations, as well as through the extension of its girdle of fortifica- 
tions, become a powerful stronghold of the eastern frontier — a place 
which is not only perfectly secure against bombardment, but has 
certain command over the important debouches in its neighbourhood. 
It bars the narrow road from Upper Alsace to the Doubs and Saone 
valley, it guards the pass between the Jura and the Vosges, and 
it protects the connections of Miihlhauscn with Vesoul, and of 
Epinal with Besan9on. In front of the small but strong-walled 
town, which is turned into an excellent central redoubt, rises at a 
short distance a girdle of ancient forts and redoubts, partly hewn in 
the rock : the work of repairing and enlarging these has gone on 
without interruption since 1872, and now not only are the heights in 
the distance crowned with fortifications such as those on Mount 
Salbert, or on the forts Vaudois, Boppc, Bosmont, Vezelois, and 
others less extensive in their character, but, besides four small forts, 
powerful batteries have been*H3uilt oh the elevated ground between 
Essert and Bavillers, to cover with their fire the plain that lies to the 
west of the town. The»great fort pn Mount Salbert, with batteries 
annexed, crowns the height (650 metres high) to the north-west of 
Belfort, scours the marshy plain that extends to Giromagny, and 
holds under fire the railway and road to Paris, and the district of 
the sources of the Lisaine ; w^e towards the south it completely 
commands the town. The ForrV audois (8 kilometres south-west of 
Mount Salbert, and built on an isolated peak), exceeding all the 



others in effective range of fire, guards the valley of the 
Lisaine and the plain between Henconrt and Belfort. The forts 
Roppe and Bosmont, on the left bank of the Savoureuse, protect 
the east front, and render, it difficult to institute a regular siege of 
the place at its most vulnerable side ; they have a wide range of shot 
over the plain to the north, and the great road to Colmar comes 
under their fire. The Fort Vezelois flanks the railway to Belle. 
Other batteries, not less slyong, have been erected not far from the 
railway station of Belfort' between Danjoutin and the junction of 
the two railways from Miihlhausen and Lyons ; their object is to 
protect Danjoutin even after the enemy has captured the works of 
the region farther south. Belfort has also a carrier-pigeon station. 

Twelve* kilometres from Belfort, on the Upper Savoureuse, lies the 
very strong Fort Giromagny, which covers the road winding up to the 
Ballon d^ Alsace, and leading into the Moselle valley, and secures the 
connection with the forts erected in the Vosges. As Giromagny in the 
north, so Fort Vaudois on the Lisaine (9 kilometres from Belfort) pre- 
serves the connection with Montbeliard (Mompelgart). The circum- 
ference of the line of fortifications at Belfort is 50 kilometres, 
and f;’om that circumstance alone one can perceive the importance of 
the place. For the protection of the district between Belfort and 
the Swi^s frontier the strong old castle of Montbeliard has been 
..35itpred, and thereby the security of this canal, railway, and road 
centre has been safeguarded. 

A cannon-shot north-east of Montbeliard there comes into view, 
on a perfectly isolated hill (390 metres high), the powerful Fort la 
Chaux. It stands on the right ba*hk of the Doubs, between the 
mouths of the Lisaine and the Savoureuse, and being sustained by 
two batteries, it exerts a decisive tactic influence not only over the 
valleys of the Doubs, the Allaine, the Savoureuse, and the Lisaine, 
but also over all connections with Montb^iard from Alsace, as well 
as from the north-west corner of Switzerland. The same task 
which Fort la Chaux has to fulfil north-east of Montbeliard falls 
to Fort Mont Bart for the valleys of the Doubs and Allaine, for 
the Miihlhausen and»Besan9on railway, for the Rhine and Rhone 
Canal, and for important roads to the south-west of the town. Fort 
Mont Bart is three and a half ’kilometfes south-west of Montbeliard, 
and is the key of all roads between Montbeliard and Besan9on by 
which one can reach the valley of^the Doubs.* The road from Basle to 
Besan9on, which crosses the Doubs at Pont-de-Roide, is brought at 
that ]^oiut under the fire of the batteries of the Roches, while 
farther east, on the chain of hills, the Fort Lomont (800 metres high) 
has been erected to guard the road from Blamont and De Pierre. 

Through the entrenchments of Belfort, the fortifications of Mont- 
beliard, and the detached forts which reach down the Moselle valley 



as far as Epinal, it was hoped to deprive Upper Alsace of all power 
of offensive, and to preclude every means of access to France by the 
Upper Vosges passes : the gap of Belfort ” no longer exists. It 
may here be remarked that Epinal, Belfort, Be 8 an 9 on, Dijon, and 
Langres represent a large strategical pentagon, in which every angle 
is filled with a fortified place of the first rank. 

If we now follow the French frontier from Belfort northwards, 
it appears that the line of defences do^s not lean so closely on 
the course of the political frontier as hitherto, but rather that the 
Moselle, from its source at Ballon d^Alsace almost to its exit into 
German territory, between Pont-k-Mousson and Metz, has been taken 
as the line of defence, behind which and north of which the line of 
the Meuse takes its place. We have in the first place to consider 
the Moselle. 

Due north of Fort Giromagny, just mentioned, the following 
works have been erected to guard the road from there to Epinal, 
over the Ballon d^ Alsace and through the upper Moselle valley : — 

In the first place, not far from the German frontier, at the point 
(1,200 metres high) where the road from Miihlhausen by Thaun to 
the northern slope of the Ballon d* Alsace creeps up to the highest 
peak by this inaccessible pyramid of rock, there rises the fort of the 
Ballon de Servante ; then descending into the Moselle valley, we 
come upon the Fort Chdteau Lambert, and 14 kilometres lower 
still (773 metres high) Fort Rupt, which bar the entrance to 
the Moselle valley from the north-west, and at the same time 
command those Vosges passes through which the roads from 
Muhlhausen, Gebweiler, &c-, proceed, in order to get out by the 
Moselle valley into those of che Oignon and Brcuchin — that is, 
to get to Besan^ou and Vesoul, &c. West of the town of Remire- 
mont Fort Parmont blocks the. road running through the Moselette 
and Moselle valleys, and connecting Neu Breisach, Colmar, and 
Langres. Farther down the Jloselle, 11 kilometres above Epinal, 
is Fort d’Arches, which commands with its shot the country round 
the confluence of the Vologne and the Moselle, and protects the 
railway and road to Saint Die. r 

We thus find that wherever the roads *from Upper Alsace pass 
into the Moselle valley, Freiltti barricades have been erected for the 
purpose of stopping the advance of an invading army in the 
direction of Langres or Ghaumont,^nd of rendering it impossible to 
turn the flank of the fortress of Belfort on the north. Naturally 
•these barricades establish a secure connection between Belfort and 

Epinal itself has neither wall nor moat, but has been converted 
into a fortified place of importance by eight detached forts and 
batteries, constructed at some distance in front of it (four on either 



bank of the Moselle) ; it is entrusted with the task of safeguarding the 
junction of the railway and road system near the town. The forts 
of Epinal are these : Fort Raziraont, ou the hill of the same name 
(470 metres high)^ exceeding all the others in effective range of fire, 
and commanding the whole plateaus to the west and north, as well as 
the road from Epinal to Rambervillers ; Fort la Mouche, erected 
in the forest of ' Epinal, and guarding the Moselle defile and the 
branches of the railway to Uie slope of the right bank of the river ; 
the two forts lie near the Sawn ; on the right bank stand the Forts 
Dogneville and Longchamp, a strong tHe~de-pont, • Dogneville com- 
mands the Moselle valley, the railway, and the high road to Nancy 
and Luneville; while Longchamp bars the direct road from Epinal to 
Rambervillers. The girdle is completed on the south and south- 
west by three forts — Bamboia, du Roulon, du Girancourt ; and finally, 
on the hill of the same name, immediately to the north of the canal 
and the railway from Neufchateau, stands Fort d’Uxegney, which 
effectually blocks all access to the plateau against an enemy advanc- 
ing by the road from Mirecourjfc. The battery des Frisches lies be- 
tween Forts Bambois and Roulon, the battery de Sanchey between 
Forts pirancourt and d^Uxegney; and the battery of La Grande- 
Haye lies east of d^Uxegney. The circumference of the ring of 
forts measures 42 kilometres. 

Tu^t as on the Belfort-Epinal front, so also, farther north, in the 
territorf between the latter town and Toul, the Republic has taken 
care that an enemy advancing from the east should find the main 
roads and river passes barricaded. The line of fortifications of the 
Moselle joins here with the line of fortifications of the Meuse, the 
two rivers being only 25 kilometres apart at Toul. The first of the 
^leuse fortifications we encounter north-west of Epinal is Fort Bourle- 
raont, not far from Neufchateau, which covers the Chaumont-Neuf- 
chattiiu-Mirecourt-Nancy Railway, co important for commissariat 
purposes, as well as the main roads that meet there. Twenty kilo- 
metres farther down,*on the heights to the right of the Meuse, is 
Fort Pagny-la-Blanche-C6te, which covers with its fire the Neuf- 
ch&teau-Vaucouleurs Railway and the Meuse road. Twelve kilo- 
metres south of Toul, Fort Blenois-les-Toul guards an important 
junction of roads. Then on the left Mnk of the Meuse, south of 
Nancy, the steep rock of Saint-Barbe, near the village Pont Saint- 
Vincent, has a fort on it, which Jbars the roads coming from Toul, 
and sweeps the other bank of the river, as well as the Chaumont-Nancy 
Railway, north-east from Toul and north from Nancy. At the 
strategically important railway station of Frouard, where the 
Meurthe and Moselle unite, there is the redoubt Chanois, with two 
strong batteries lying in front of it, which has command not only of 
the railway, but also of the Upper Moselle' valley and the valley of 

VOL. LII. H ’ 




Lay Saiut-Christophle ; while a little farther to the east, near the 
German border, we encounter the very strong Fort Mannonviller, on 
the Vezouse, and on the great railway line from Paris to Strassburg. 
which is meant to protect this railway line as well as the bridge. 
The district between Epinal, and Toul is well secured against the 
invasion of a hostile army by these scattered forts, for even if by 
taking Fort Mannonviller the enemy succeeded in opening the 
Strassburg-Paris Railway line as far ^s !5fp.ucy, still the r^iilway going 
through the district south of Toul, by wfiich they could pass Toul, 
would be already blocked to a march above that fortress by Fort 
Pont-Saint-A’incent ; and for protection farther on provision is 
made in the more westerly forts, Bourlemont and Pagnv-la-Blanche- 

Sixty kilometres below Epinal, in tlie Aloselle valley, lies Toul, a 
place powerfully fortified by detached forts and batteries, whose 
girdle of defence is 10 kilometres long. Through Toul the first 
line of defences against an army from Metz, determined by the mid- 
channel of the Moselle, is brought into advantageous connection with 
the mid-channel of the Meuse. Toul, which is the seat of a carrier- 
pigeon station, has retained its old town wall, and is surrounded by 
a moat of water. Its fortifications consist of— (1) The position o 
St. Michel (ic\, the peak to the north of the town from wliich .in 
1870 the German batteries opened fire) with Fort St. Michel, and 
adjunct works, which, erected in the north on the left bank of the 
Moselle, may be described as impregnable by situation as well as by 
construction. The Tort is independent of the town and of , all other 
works, and would Ijy itself, even after the fall of tlie rest, block the 
Paris-Strassburg Railway. (2) The position of Allley-le-Sec with 
#Fort A"illey-le-Sec, including the small redoubt and^tlic girdle of 
arranged batteries which crown the height on the right bank of the 
river, at the callage of the same name, on the south-west of Toul. 
This position commands the steep banks of the Jloselle; the open 
country to the north forms a sort of broad glacisr to it, and the rail- 
way bridge at Fontenoy can be brought under the fire of its long- 
range guns. (3) A connecting-link^ between the two works just men- 
tioned is formed by the redoubts of Dommartin and Chaudeney, on 
• the heights of Dommartin, wftbre the Prussian field artillery took up 
its position in 1870. ( 1) The position of Domgermain, with Fort 
Domgermain, which with Fort d^Ecrouves keeps the valley de 
PIngressin under fire, and protects by its dominating position 
•the redoubt do la Justice that stands in front of it to the 
south-west. (5) The position d’Ecrouves, with Fort d'Ecrouves. 
(6) The redoubt de la Justice. (7) Tlie fort of Bl&od, with two 
annexed batteries, which protects the entrance into that long 
defile through which the high road from Vaucouleurs— the only 



cart-road from the basin of the Moselle — passes to the Meuse 
valley. The battery on the rock of Blcnod exceeds in height even 
the position of St. Michel. (8) The Port du Tillot, with a battery 
annexed, which controls the approaches to Toul in the plain between 
the Moselle and the road from Mirecourt, and which in the event 
of an attack from the south would sorely harass the assailant with its 
return fire. (9) The fort de Lucey, consisting of one battery with 
embrasures, and one with^t, whereby the natural strength of the 
position in the north-west of Toul is greatly increased, and makes 
itself felt to the nortli, east and west. The chief of these works 
possesses an armour-plated tower, and from the range of its shot 
can lay under fire the noad from Toul to Metz, the cross-roads going 
south from* the Woevre, andithe whole district lying north of Toul, 
as well as the northern slopes of Mount Saint-Michel. 

Leaving the Moselle front, we now arrive at the Meuse line, 
which is so very important for the eastern frontier *of France. 
Ill that important section of the defences of the country Toul and 
Verdun form the chief wings. The Moselle approaches very near 
the Meuse, in a deep- cut channel at Toul, and is connected with it 
by a canal through a valley between Toul and Commercy. 

The following forts, erected on the right bank of the river, arc all 
aids to odensive operations on the part of the French, because they 
suniu) the bridges towards the east, and the important railway lind con- 
necting them which runs from Commercy to Verdun, on the left or 
western bank of the Meuse. The forts, of which the three first have 
batteries annexed, bear the following names : — Fort Gironville, which 
sweeps the high road from Bar-le-l3uc to Metz and Lionville, in 
the north-east of Commercy ; Fort Camp-Romain, south-east of Saint- 
Michel (the strongest of them all), which commands the town, the ford 
of the Meuse, the canal, and the junction of three great strategical 
roadtt I Fort Troyon, which Jiolds the bridge of Tilly-sur-Meuse and 
Bamoncourt under fire ; and finally. Fort Genicourt, which com- 
mands the Meuse valley to a long distance both up and down. 
All these works arc situated in a chain of hills called '‘Cotes 
de Meuse, and form* ar strong ^art of the line of defence which 
reaches on the one side the fortified ground of Toul, and on the 
other side that of Verdun. Every road and bridge in this district, 
being endangered by the neighbourhood of Metz, is barricaded by 
numerous small works, and the fsrts can be* taken only by a regular 
siege. ^ 

And^this brings us to the basis of the left wing of the enormous* 
wall of defences which the French have constructed. It brings us to 
Verdun, which is meant to take the place of Metz as a fortification of 
the first order, and which commands the railway which is the shortest 
route between Paris and Metz. The^ old town wall, with the exception 

H 8 



of the ground before the spacious citadel — Saint- Victor, built in 1870, 
i?ith hornwork in front of it — is surrounded by a moat that can be 
inundated from the Meuse. The eleven forts on the right bank of 
the river, built at the great distance of 4000 to 7000 metres from the 
town, fall into two groups : the first and more important, on the north 
and north-east of Verdun, consists of the redoubts de Belleville, 
Saint-Michel, de Souville (with batteries annexed), and de Tavaones. 
This group, commands the plateau north-east of the town, and guards 
the important marching roads from the entrenched camp to the plain 
of Woevre. The two first-named works crown the heights of Saint- 
Michel,Vnd prevent approach from the north to the basin of Verdun 
by the right bank of the Meuse. Fort de Souville lies at the key- 
point to the plateau of the north-east*. The very strong Fort de 
Tavannes, in a well-chosen position between the railway tunnel and 
the road to Metz, commands the approaches to the plain of Woevre. 
The second group contains the redoubt de Belrupt, the Fort de 
Bozellier, and the redoubt d^Hautainville. These works are built on 
the broad chains of the Meuse (Belrupt on an open but, from a military 
point of view, very important summit), and exert their sway over the 
plateau, the plain of Woevre, and the Mpuse valley. In the forests 
between the two roads to Metz, and stretching far beyond them, 
enormous abates of trees can easily be thrown as important obstacles 
in the enemy’s path. The redoubts de Diigny, de Regret, de la 
Chaume, and de Marre, on the left side of the Meuse, guard a 
camping-ground sufficient for the accommodation of six army corps. 
Pugny holds the river and canal under fire, and in concert with 
d’Hautainville, lying opposite it, forbids an enemy descending the valley 
of the Meuse from approaching the plain of Verdun, Port de 
Regret stands on the height of Cote-Saint-Barthelemy, on which the 
Prussian batteries were planted in 1870, and commands the valley 
through which the road and railway pass to Paris. The powerful 
Fort la Chaume lies on the highest point of the ridge at Sivry-la- 
Perge, and can direct its fire to Verdun and to tlie valleys stretching 
to the north and west. It possesses great power of resistance, and 
may still stand after all the remaining works * have fallen. Fort de 
Marre, situated on a lengthy and pretty high ridge, bars the northern 
entrance to tlie Verdun basin; and crosses its fire with that of Fort 
Belleville on the right bank. Both works hold under fire the bridges 
of Charny and Bras, as well as several fords of the Meuse. Marre 
commands the Meuse valley down as far as ^amognieux and Brabant. 

• Although the western forts are strong works themselves, the front 
formed by them possesses only relative strength, for the lie of the 
country favours the invader, and the extensive forests render outlook 
impossible ; and if the west front of Verdun is best for the defensive, 
the east front is best for the offensive ; while the forts of the left 



bank prevent the town being fired at from the hills in front of it. 
Those on the right bank command the plain of Woevre. The works 
round Yerdun have a circumference of 40^ kilometres; it takes 
25^000 men to garrison them, and it would require two full army corps 
to besiege the place. 

Montmedy, on the Belgian frontier, and Longwy, on the rocky 
slope of the steep valley of the Chiers, on the Belgian-Luxemberg 
frontier, can hardly claiqp higher importance as fortifications than 
forts of the first rank. The forest of Argonne, which lies between 
these places and Verdun, contains no artificial military positions, for 
the French think them needless, inasmuch as it seemed unlikely the 
Germans would attempt an invasion there, on account of the vicinity 
of the Belgian-Luxemburg Jrontier. 

Whereas before the year 1870 the French frontier was protected 
by three fortresses of the first rank, supported by a few other smaller 
ones, there are to-day three distinct entrenched areas in the French 
eastern line of fortifications : the southern, from Belfort to Epiual, 
embracing the \osges district ; the central, from Epinal to Toul — i.e., 
the barrier of the Moselle ; and the northern, or line of the Meuse, 
stretching by the Argonne forest from Toul to Verdun. These en- 
tnnehed areas, which are of almost equal length, are each, as the crow 
flics, some 60 kilometres long from town centre to town centre; so that 
Liic«pace for marching through between the entrenchments would come 
to some 40 or 50 kilometres. The path of the French fortified front 
against the invasion of a German army coming from the central 
ilhine as its basis — the portion from Belfort to Verdun — is thus not 
more than 180 kilometres long, but it is accompanied for its whole 
length by an excellent railway service, and another railway runs 
behind and .almost parallel with it from Besan^ou by Chaumont to 
Bhelms. Over this railway six lines run to the east from Central 
France ; so that the connection of the whole system is established, 
and it is made possible to effect surprisingly expeditious transports of 
troops. • 

As to the essential importance and the general character of the 
principle of barrier fSrts w^hich has been recently introduced to such 
an extent into the French system of land defences, it may be 
remarked that in the event of a tlerman invasion the invading 
army would have to ^take at least two forts before there would be 
any possibility of effecting a further march* onward ; for the armies 
of modern times — consLsting as they do of it may be a million of meu, 
a huqdred thousand horses, and thousands of waggons — ^require loV 
their effective progress a wide marching zone ; that is to say, they 
require several parallel roads, not one of which can possibly be 
dispensed with. Then the supply of provisions and ammunition to such 
a large force depends on the eflBciency of the railway service between 



the sphere of active operations and their basis in the combatant’s own 
country ; so that sieges and other of the greater military enterprises 
must he foregone when it is impossible to obtain such a service^ and to 
effect the transport of sick and prisoners by rail. For this reason the 
French barrier forts^ considered merely as road barriers^ possess* high 
strategical importance, and an invading army would have at the very 
beginning of the campaign to picket the field of siege operations in 
order to demolish these railway barriers as speedily as possible. The 
size and plan of these barrier forts vary, but they all consist of 
enclosed works, with a lower wall and a main wall, a deep trench lined 
with mason-work, and in the trench, as well as in the glacis, certain 
accessory defences. The trench is swept by the fire of rifles and 
mitrailleuses. Many forts possess revolving plated towers, and their 
garrisons vary in number from 500 to 1000 men. The smidl forts 
have twenty-five to thirty guns, the largest over fifty (medium and 
heavy ordnance as well as mortars). 

This brings us to the end of our enumeration and consideration 
of the bulwarks which the French and Germans have erected since 
1871 for offence and defence on the Rhine, the iloselle, the Meuse, 
&c., and which suggest now the following reHections. 

It is so natural to expect to be able, from the manner in which 
nations defend their chief earthly goods, to draw a conclusion as to 
their military character, methods, virtues, and weaknesses, that we 
cannot help attempting to do so now in a few words. 

On the German Side we find that the defences arc few but strong ; 
that the system of fortification of Alsace and Lorraine has undergone 
great simplification ; that there has been none of the extravagant expen- 
diture on new works which is conspicuous across the French border, but 
that, on the contrary, places have been razed to tlic ^ground which 
formerly protected the plain of Alsace, the passes of tlie Vosges, and the 
slopes of Lorraine. In France, on the other hand, the Republic 
still adheres to the cordon system of the last century, and goes on ever 
adding more and more to its fortifications, • and even then it 
always thinks it still falls short of its duty in the matter. The Ger- 
mans lay no more weight on the dead powTr of resistance that 
lies in the nature of the country, and on the help of fortified 
buildings, than they deserve, bat rather look for the defence of their 
country to a powerful strategical offensive ; whereas their neighbours 
west of the Vosges have* carried tte science of the spade and the 
trowel to a hitherto unexampled height, and they go on digging ever 
deeper, and building ever higher, tiU to-day they have to guard not 
merely one key of a military position, but a whole bunch of such 
keys. They have covered every furlong of the ^^sol sacr^ de 
la France " with bulwarks, or brought it under fire ; so that when 
the curling German wave approaches, it will break in an assault on 



French fortifications. Now, this riveting of an army to a fixed immov- 
able spot is difficult to combine with the offensive, and the year 1870 
showed that a French army could be brought rapidly behind walls but not 
easily before them ; so that we may be permitted to ask the question, 
whether the nation which leads so excited a life to the west of the 
Vosges is still the same that in former times used to be so eager to 
advance and attack the enemy, and which, indeed, always showed a 
rapture for open battle an^ swift decision, and the profoundest aversion 
to merely standing and exchanging fire, or to remaining long behind 
wall and trench ? Arc the present French no longer the sons of 
their fathers, whom Napoleon III. invoked so recently as 1859, on 
the plains of the Po, to rush on through the region of fire and 
put theif trust in their bayonets? Did the French not boast, 
even in July 1870; ‘^Le soldat fran^ais marche toujours en avant, 
voilh notre tactique ? Have they forgotten the days in Italy and 
Egypt under the youthful Consul, the forty centuries which looked 
down from the Pyramids on the sons of France ? What, then, is 
the meaning of this departure from the military views of earlier days 
— this complete change in tactics and strategetics, which had 
already taken place as far back as the year 1870? Dead walls are 
the gravestones of the military self-confidence of the French, and 
the notwithstanding their presence may very soon be converted 
Intp because of their prescnce.^^ France prefers to put her trust in the 
shield rather than in the hand that wields the spear. But what if there 
be uo safety after all found in the fortifications capriciously erected to 
barricade roads and their approaches ? What if there be no fort that 
can resist the newly invented blasting material for more than twenty- 
four hours ? This question is answ'ercd by the " Instruction pour Ic 
Combat de ITnfanterie which was lately issued by General Boulanger, 
and which breathes an impassioned w'orship of the offensive. The 
moral factor is certainly one of the most important in deciding modern 
battles, in which the form quickly falls to pieces, and the spirit alone 
makes alive ; but .it is justifiable to doubt whether any amount of 
instruction in manual exercises wdll be able to efface the ideas which 
French ofiicers and* subalterns have for sixteen years entertained 
regarding the superiority of the defensive method of conflict. 

The Germans, who love the open tiwld, regard their fortifications as 
merely supports for the living power of the array — as aids to the free 
movement of the troops. i 

After the military estimate I have already given of the system of 
fortifications on the Vosges and in the forest of Argonne, it will 
probably be agreed that few of the chances of war lie on the side of 
the assailant, whoever he may be. He may therefore think it Ijest 
to avoid this whole line of mound and wall and cannon, where he 
might have to wait long for a decisive engagement, and to carry 



the battle into another field altogether. It may ^ thus veil be that, 
because of these strong positions on the French and German border, 
it may be on foreign soil that will be fought this gigantic conflict 
of nations. Just as water flows to the lowest level, so do com- 
batants seek out .the easiest battle-ground, because it is there that 
the decisive issue which is so earnestly desired can be soonest and 
most completely arrived at. But such ground cannot be found in 
the present case anywhere except on ^the southern wing of the 
German and French lines of fortification, where Switzerland sits^ 
on her tower, or on their northern termination, where Luxemburg 
and Belgium extend. If, then, an inexorable fate should will that 
while words are lisping peace, deeds should mean war, then no 
one can tell whether Swiss and Belgian neutrality will continue to 
be preserved, or whether it will not be precisely on these territories 
that the iron die will be cast. As Switzerland is entrusted with the 
watch on the south, so Belgium has to exercise the watch on the 
Meuse ; and woe to them if the keys escape from their weak hands ! 

As I said before, the south-west corner of Germany is not very 
vulnerable from the side of the Upper Rhine, between Basle and Neu- 
Breisach ; whereas a French army going fhroiigh Switzerland on the 
basis of the Aare valley, and marching upon Brugg, could easily force 
the Rhine, with Shaffhausen and Stein, to reach the plains of Engen 
and Stockach. In this way the Ilanube valley could be got at 
without touching the strategic harrier of the Black Forest. Suppos- 
ing the French army to be defeated, it would find a capital line of 
defence on the Limmat and Metli line — so well known by ^lassena’s 
operations of 17911 — with the Important stronghold of Zurich, which 
latter cuts off the most important lines of operations. Retreating 
farther, the army would find on the Aare many useful points of 
defence, and the lines and forts at Montbeliard and Belfort assure 
sufficient protection on the flank. Finally, the French barrier forts 
of the Jura and Rhone passes, as well as the towns of Besau^'on and 
Auxonne, turned into large entrenchment camps, offer sure places of 

While France has armed herself with coat-of-mail against Switzer- 
land, the western border cantons of the latter country lie exposed 
to attack, and their geographical and topographical features are, in a> 
military point of view, positively favourable to a hostile invasion. 
In proof of the first part of this assertion I need only point to her 
fortified places and the numerous strategic railways, and to add that 
cthe material for expeditious mobilization lies everywhere ready in the 
French fortresses. If the French once resolved to violate Swiss 
neutrality, they would not hesitate long in utilizing the advantages 
of the situation. How far they could penetrate unchecked through 
Swiss territory with their forces, before that portion of the Swiss 



army that is unattached to fortresses (117,200 men), the army of 
first line, the Landwehr (85,000 men), and the Landsturm 
(100,000 men), opposed them, is doubtful. The Swiss are well- 
disciplined, reliable, competent soldiers, cap&ble of long marches, and 
good shots (the weapon of their infantry is the excellent repeater 
rifle, model 1878-81), and the moral factors of their military character 
— such as their firm determination to maintain their independence — 
are in many ways backe^«by the nature of the country itself, which 
makes up for the poor capacity of the Swiss array for the offensivCy 
and obstructs the speed of all hostile operations. And then, besides, 
no great time would elapse before the French tricolor found its pro- 
gress opi^osed by the German colours, which the Swiss would have 
summoned to their "relief. 

Germany has, in the first instance, no interest to infringe Swiss 
neutrality, for its natural militaiy object, Paris, lies outside the 
line from Basle to Geneva ; but if it wished to directits troops to the 
south of France, it must undertake a siege of Lyons, a place which 
was of no military importance in 1870, but is now surrounded by an 
entrenched camp with a circumference of hundreds of kiloeaetres. 
Farther to the east or south a German army would encounter Gre- 
n*)ble, which has been put into the same state as Lyons; and if it 
tried a detour on the Jura, that would be easily averted by the French 

lii conclusion, let us cast a flying glance at Belgium, where the 
question of neutrality is at this moment briskly discussed, and 
where, at any moment when the theory' of Belgian neutrality is 
called to pass into practice, controversies invariably arise on all sides 
as to its nature, its existence, and its results ; showing how fugitive 
are ideas of right in our generation. 

The position of Belgium offers little aualogy to that of Switzer- 
land, for while Switzerland is bounded by four great Powers, Belgium 
is bounded by only two of them, and on the west is washed by the 
sea, and presumably secured by the English and Dutch fleets. 
While Switzerland has no fortress, Belgium has the great and 
powerful international tete-de-pgnt of Antwerp, whose high importance 
as a fortification is not to be mistaken, although its remote situation 
impairs its strategical influence on The Meuse valley. As regards 
military capacity, Belgium has a^ standing army which is officered 
by men thoroughly trained tf) the modern standard of military 
requirements, ani which is fitted both actively and strategically for 
the qffensive so far as its numerical strength (only 90,000 men) will 
permit, while Switzerland has a national army 6f 300,000 men. 

^ The passes of the Ardennes protect Belgium iu a measure from 
the south, but the unfortified Meuse valley invites invasion, for the 
citadels of Namur and Liittich form no barriers. The line of the 



Meuse is an open door for France^ supporting herself on her northern 
series of fortified places — Dunkirk^ Lille, Valenciennes, Maubeuge — 
and secure of reception, in case of retreat, in her fortresses of 
Valenciennes, Maubeuge, Landrecy, Rocroy, Givet, and Mezieres. 
Since there is no obstacle to prevent the army of the Republic 
from marching by the valley of the Meuse to Aix-la-Chapelle 
and Cologne, it seems more than doubtful whether France will 
be able to resist such a temptation. 4 But the moment she 
violates Belgian territory she will discover the truth of the 
strategical principle, that where a sortie can be made an 
entrance can also be made, and that, without taking the Belgian 
army into consideration at all, this same line of the Meuse, 
by which the French thought to reach Germany, would furnish the 
Germans also with a good basis of operations for enterprises of far- 
reaching scope, for there arc several railways running from the forti- 
fied entrenchijent at Cologne to the ]\Icuse valley, and beyond it 
to the weak points of the Oise valley ; and if the German army suc- 
ceeded in entering France from Namur, then, besides other conse- 
quences, this great fact would be noted, that the whole French enfi- 
lade in the Moselle, with all its fortresses, would be turned in. flank 
and rear. In the event of the German forces meeting reverses, they 
would find on the Meuse places of support and recovery. But, never- 
theless, Germany would heartily welcome such a fortification of. the 
Meuse basin as Belgium is at present planning ; for it w ould neces- 
sarily redound to the strategic interest of Germany, constituting a 
termination of the German system of defences on the western fron- 
tier (a protection of the flank of Diedenhofen). 

From these considerations it is sufficiently plain that an invasion 
of Belgian soil is not beyond danger, and that Belgium is not to 
be regarded lightly as a country either to march througli in order to 
join issue with the enemy, or to make the field of a decisive battle. 

Here I close this survey of. the German and French fortifications, 
and this sketch of the probable battle-fields where two giants will 
perhaps soon measure their strength. 

Otto Wachs. 


N O political fact is of more importance and interest in modern 
continental history than the tenacity with which the smaller 
natiojis of J^urope preserve their pride of nationality in the face of 
the growing tendency towards the formation of large, strongly con- 
centrated empires, supported by jiowerful armies. Why should 
x'ortugal utterly refuse to unite with Spain ? Why do Holland and 
Belgium cling to their existence as separate States, in spite of all the 
efforts of statesmen to join them ? Why do the people of Bohemia and 
Croatia, of Finland and of Poland, refu-^e to eoalesce with the rest of 
the population of the empires of whith they form but small sections ? 
Why, finally, do the new kingdoms of Boumania and Servia show 
such astonishing vitality ? The arguments as to distinctive race or 
distinctive language fail to answer all these questions. The people 
of Portugal are of the same race and speak nearly the same language 
as the people of Spain ; and the Russians and the Poles are closely 
akin to each other.* It is not enough to say that these small nation- 
alities simply preserve the traditions of their past independence to 
account for the existence of theiy national spirit at the present time. 
Centuries have passed since the provinces which now form the 
kingdom of Roumania, since ServiaUf Finland, Bohemia, and Croatia 
lost their independence ; strenuous efforts have been made to stamp 
out the recollection of that inde|)endence, and yet the inhabitants of 
those provinces retain their national pride and patriotic feelings as 
tenaciously as Englishmen, Frenchmen, Germans, or Russians. Tinfe 
was on the side of the great Powers who strove to crush out this 
national spirit, and in some of these countries it had at the com- 
mencement of the present century nearly ceased to exist. But it 
has now revived with redoubled vigour : Czechs, Finns, Roumanians, 



Servians, Poles,. Belgians, and Portuguese are prouder than ever of 
their nationality and of their history, and there is in the future very 
little probability that these races will ever lose their national pride 
and sense of independence, even if they remain, as some of them 
do still, subject to foreign rulers, and component parts of great 

This rekindling of the national spirit is the result chiefly of the 
development of the new historical school all over the Continent. 
Instead of remaining in ignorance of their past history, or, at best, 
regarding a mass of legends as containing the true tale of their 
countries^ achievements, these small nations have now learnt from 
the works of their great- historians what the story of their father- 
lands really is, and what title they have to be proud of their ancestors. 
These great historians — Herculano, Palacky, Szechenyi, and the rest — 
who made it their aim to tell the truth and not to show oflP the 
beauties of a fine literary style, all belonged to the generation which 
had its interest aroused in the history of the past by the novels of 
Sir Walter Scott and the productions of the Romantic School, and 
they all learnt how history was to be studied, and then written, from 
Niebuhr, Von Ranke, and their disciples and followers. # From* these 
masters they learnt that their histories were not to be made interest- 
ingf at the expense of truth; that legends, however beautiful or 
patriotic, were to be rejected, if found to be without foundation and 
that the two chief qualities required by a modern historian were 
patience in wading through masses of documents, and critical insight 
in dealing with them. Studying history after this fashion must needs 
be laborious, and can never be adequately rewarded in money, but a 
life spent in discovering and compiling the true history of a nation 
is bound to meet its own reward at last in fame. Nowhere is such 
a life more honoured and respected than in such small countries as 
Portugal and Bohemia ; and the earnest historians of those nations 
won their reward in seeing that their labours were appreciated, that 
their fellow-citizens took a growing interest in the records of their 
country, that they rejoiced with a new joy in past glories when the 
story was shown to be correct and not a concoction of myths, and 
that they felt more pride in their national heroes when they recog- 
nized them to be, not demi-gods, but human beings, who had lived, 
suffered, and died, and who had felt the influence of the same passions 
which swayed themselves*. Students of the modern historical school 
have had the satisfaction to reap this reward to some extent in every 
country on the Continent, but it is oply among the smaller 
that their labours have been of permanent political importance. 

The truth of these general remarks will be best illustrated by an 
examination into the revival of the spirit of nationality and indepen- 
dence in some of the smaller nations of Europe, and the influence of 


the new school of historians upon it. In no country has this influence 
been more important than in Portugal, and it is worth while to dwell 
upon its importance there at some lengthy because the great modern 
historian of Portugal is entirely unknown in England. At the 
beginning of this century thp old national spirit seemed to be dying 
out in Portugal; the people wished to rest after their exertions 
during the Peninsular War ; but instead of being able to remain 
at peace their country wjis tom with civil strife. In the midst 
of these troubles the Opinion grew up, especially amongst the 
Portuguese Radicals, that what they called the ridiculous and un- 
natural separation of two such kindred nations as Spain and Portugal 
should cease, and that the two countries should be united. The 
favourite dream of these Radicals was the establishment of a great 
Iberian Republic to embrace the whole of the Peninsula, for they 
could not help comparing their absolutist pretender Dom Miguel 
with the Spanish Don Carlos, and hoped for the active aid of the 
Spanish Liberals against him. But it was not only the Portuguese 
Radicals who looked forward to the union of the Peninsula into 
one political whole. Even such a staunch supporter of the little 
Queen Maria da Gloria as the Marshal Duke de Saldanha professed 
a belief in the expediency of Iberian unity to the end of his life, 
and the moderate Royalist statesmen, almost without exception, 
1 jgicetted that there was no king upon the throne of Spaift to marry 
their young queen regnant. The feeling that it would be advan- 
tageous to unite with Spain was particularly strong among the 
educated classes in Portugal. They felt that neither country could 
enjoy the peace and security necessary for the increase of material 
prosperity unless the other was tranquil, and they could see no 
reason why there should not be a union between them. Among the 
lower classes of the Portuguese nation the old rancorous hatred of 
the Spaniard still existed, but there was, nevertheless, among the 
bourgeoisie, and all classes above the very lowest, at the close of the 
Miguelite wars, and during the troubles which followed the introduc- 
tion of parliamentaiy government, a decided feeling towards a union 
with Spain, which only found no open manifestation on account of 
the internal troubles in Spain itself. That feeling has now entirely 
disappeared. No Portuguese Radiaal now dreams of an Iberian 
Republic ; no statesman would now dare to advocate a union with 
Spain ; the educated classes are |once more proud of their country’s 
glorious history, and of their own marked spirit of nationality ; and 
this change of feeling has been chiefly brought about by the labouca 
of the great Portuguese historian, Alexandra Herculano de Carvalho 
e Araujo and his disciples, and by the modern Portuguese poets, 
Joao Baptista Almeida-Garrett and Antonio Feliciano de Castilho. 

A sketch of the life and career of Herculano will show best how 



he became a historian^ and irith what motives he entered on his 
arduous labours. Alexandra Herculano de Carvalho e Araujo was 
born at Lisbon in 1810^ and was sent to Paris for his education. 
He there imbibed such revolutionary ideas that soon after he returned 
to his family in Portugal he was forced to go into exile in 1881, 
when the adherents^ of Lorn Aliguel, the defender of absolutism and 
the monks^ became all-powerful. In the following year he served under 
Dom Pedro in the defence of Oporto as a vohjnteer for a short time, but 
soldiering was not to his taste, and he soon retired to England, where 
he spent a few months, and learnt to read Walter Scott^s novels in 
the original* From England he went on to Paris, where he lived 
among the young and enthusiastic followers of the Romantic move- 
ment, directed by Guizot, Cousin, and Villemaiu, of which the poets 
were Lamartine and Alctor Hugo. After the final overthrow of the 
Miguelites, and the Convention of Evora Alonte in 1834, Herculano 
went back to Lisbon, and there started the Panorama^ a weekly 
political and Liberal journal, in which he published his first articles 
and poems. He had arrived in Lisbon an advanced Liberal and a 
believer in parliamentary Government, but the perpetual and useless 
civil wars which succeeded each other between 1835 and 1851 
nearly exhausted his patience, and sorely tried his political opinions. 
It was at this period that he began to turn from the contemporary 
troubles of^his country to the history of its past glories. This 
feeling showed itself also in other young Portuguese Liberals of the 
time, notably in Almeida-Garrett, and Castilho, and all three vented 
their jfeelings in historical poems. The outpourings of Herculano's 
muse were confessedly inferior to his friends^, and were published in 
1836 and 1838 respectively, under the titles of the " Voz do 
Propheta,^^ or Voice of the Prophet,’^ and the " Harpa do Oente,^^ 
or Harp of the Believcr.^^ Both these little volumes give abundant 
proofs of Herciilano^s admiration for Lamartine and the poets of the 
French Romantic School, and of his mastery over the Portuguese 
language ; but it was evident from them that he had not yet found 
the most appropriate channel for the expression of his thoughts and 
opinions. In 1843, however, he came nearer to his true vocation ^ 
by publishing the fii*st part of a historical novel, “ O Monasticon/^ 
under the title of ‘^Eurico o ftesbytero.^^ This historical novel 
showed the influence of AValter Scott as clearly as the poems showed 
that of Lamartine ; but it showed sotaething else besides — a singular 
power of comprehending the far distant past, and a fine style of 
historical description. It was at this period that he began to com- 
pose his History ; he had for years worked hard among the arcliiives 
at Lisbon, and had collected much valuable historical material for his 
Eurico o Presbytero.^^ He now began to marshal his facts into a 
consecutive narrative, and in 1845 — the year before the horrible 


civil war known as the War of Maria da Fonte, or Patuleia — 
Alexandra Herculano published the first volume of his Historia de 

The publication of this volume marks an epoch in the literary 
history of Portugal. There had been great chroniclers who had told 
the early story of the wars against the Moors, such as Buy de Pina, 
Duarte Galvfio and Acenheiro ; there had been . great historians — great 
rather in style than in acauracy — in the palmy days of Portuguese 
literature, such as Bernardo de Brito and Antonio Brandao ; there 
had been distinguished writers in the seventeenth century, such as 
Jacinto Freire de Andrada, the author of the Life of Dom Joao de 
Castro, one of the most beautiful biographies ever written ; there had 
been diligent collectors and* editors of ancient chronicles and docu- 
ments, such as Jose Correa da Serra and the Viscount de Santarem; 
but there had never before been a scientific Portuguese historian. 
The second volume of his History, going down to the death of 
Alfonso III. in 1279, was published in 1850, with two dissertationstbr 
essays on the elements which composed the Portuguese people, and 
on the history of the municipalities of the country. Weight has 
purp;»sely been laid on the career of Herculano in order to bring 
out the sources from which he obtained his historical inspiration. 
He had been led to take ai^ interest in the early ages of Europe by 
his jstudy of Walter Scott and of the French Romanticist#, and he 
had learnt from these masters of fiction that the men and women of 
all centuries arc alike human, and are never demi-gods or fiends in 
human shape. He was therefore ready to disbelieve in legendary 
stories, which made men more or le^ than human, while not neglect- 
ing the picturesque point of view in the lives of the men of past 
ages. But while it was from these masters that Herculano learnt 
his attitude towards the past history of his country, he derived his 
meiiiod of study from quite a different school. The influence of the 
German historical school, of which the most illustrious masters have 
been Niebuhr and Von Ranke, and of which the disciples are now 
numerous all over the Continent, had penetrated even to Portugal. 
Early history, Herciflano leaned, could only be re-written after an 
elaborate study of ancient documents and a careful comparison 
between them, and Nature fortunatdy granted him the qualities of 
patience to wade through documents, and of critical insight by 
which to judge them. To this ^wer of indefatigable study he added 
the gift of a keen perception of the picturesque, and the talent to 
tell history with clearness, conciseness, and eloquence. No wonder, 
then, that he became a great historian, and the founder of an 
historical school which was to have great weight in the politics of liis 
native country. The very bitterness of the opposition of the Clerical 
and Conservative party against him showed what excitement the 



publication of Ilerculano’s History bad caused in Portugal ; its influ- 
ence was felt alike in politics and literature ; no more was heard of a 
union with Spain ; Saldanha^s rising of 1851 failed utterly ; and 
patriotism being alive once more^ the leaders of a political party, when 
defeated in the Cortes, tried to obtain their ends by peaceful and con- 
stitutional opposition, instead of by raising armies and plunging the 
country into civil war. To attribute this happy change to the publi- 
cation of Herculano’s History entirely would be ridiculous ; but its 
influence counted for much, for it undoubtedly turned the minds of 
his countrymen away from the bitterness of their party feuds to think 
of the cause of their country alone, and made them take more interest 
in the history of their past glories. On Portuguese literature it had an 
even more important efiect. It producedr a school of new historians, 
contented to labour for the truth, and changed the minds of the 
young men of the time from the writing of melancholy poetry to the 
study of history and its attendant sciences, political economy and 
critical jurisprudence. 

The later career of Herculauo was not of the same political im- 
portance. He published no more of his history after 1850, but in 
1854 and 1855 appeared his work, On the Origin and Establish- 
ment of the Inquisition in Portugal/^ in wliich he proved how greatly 
the Roman Catholic Church was answerable for the degradation into 
which Portugal sank in the seventeenth century, and thus gave a help- 
ing hand to his friend Castilho’s scheme of secular education. He 
remained an indefatigable writer on every sort of subject, though it is 
hardly necessary to mention more of his works except a collection of 
charming little historical novels published, under the title of" Lendas e 
Historias,^^ in 1851, and his essays, or " Estudos Historicos/’ in 1876. 
Par more important was the work he did as an editor of old chro- 
nicles. Recognizing, as he did, that it was only possible to understand 
history by studying contemporary documents, Herculano commenced 
the publication of the "PortugalliseMonumentaHistorica,” an immense 
series of reproductions and editions, of which the .cost was defrayed 
by the Portuguese Government. This series he divided into three 
sections : "Scriptores,'' containing edUions of unpublished chronicles 
and lives of saints, " Leges et Consuethdines,^^ and "Diplomata et 
Chartae.” For producing these editions Herculano had great advantages 
from the position he held as librarian to the king, and upon them he 
bestowed the chief labours .of his lat^r life, thankful to see younger 
students coming to his help, and admiring the works of those who 
were proud to call themselves his followers and disciples. In their 
admiration, and that of his countrymen generally, he felt that he* had 
bis reward ; and his greatness as the founder of the scientific historical 
school in Portugal was recognized on January 22, 1858, by his elec- 
tion to the highest honour open to a European historian, that of 



corresponding member of the Institute of France in the section of 
Inscriptions and Belles Lettres. Towards the end of his life he 
retired from Lisbon to live a hermit^s life on a little property he 
possessed near Santarem^ and was visited there by a Spanish author, 
Don Ricardo Blanco Assenjo, who describes him in eloquent if rather 
far-fetched language as a Cincinnatus, handsome as statue by Flax- 
man, with much of Cato’s rudeness and Seneca s philosophy. His 
life was a desperate struggle, the grand protest of a soul indomi- 
table in its greatness, whicli will have naught to do with the repugnant 
miseries of reality, as represented in this epoch by political quackery, 
religious hypocrisy, ignorant vanity, envy, and evil-speaking.^^ 

Herculano died on September 13, 1877, but the work he com- 
menced hits been continued* and, for a small country, Portugal can 
boast of an unexampled list of modern scientific historians. The 
result of their work has been to continue the impression which he 
made upon the minds of his countrymen, and there is hardly any 
nation in Europe more proud of its nationality than the Portuguese. 
Of these followers it is only possible to mention a few names, of which 
the most distinguished are those of Luis Augusto Bebellos do Silva, 
whose “ History of Portugal treats of the years from 1642 to 1756 ; 
Simiuo Jose da Luz Soriano, Jose Maria Latino Coelho, A. P. Lopes 
de Mendon9a, and Francisco da Fonseca Benevides, whose Rainhas 
do ^ortugaV' published in 1878, is one of the ablest modern works 
on the history of his country. It is interesting to note that the 
careers of these men do not justify the saying that prophet has no 
honour in his own country ; on the contrary, although the names of 
the new school of Portuguese historians are almost unknown out of 
Portugal, they are there honoured for their labours. Herculano was 
for a time himself a member of the Portuguese Cortes, and both 
Rebellos do Silva and Latino Coelho held seats in the Cabinet at 
different times. All are proud of their work, and do not spare labour 
over it ; and it is certain that the great influence which Herculano 
and his followers hajre exercised upon the politics of Portugal has been 
entirely good, and that it has for ever killed the notion of a union of 
the whole Iberian Peninsula undqr either a monarch or a republic. 

It is a far cry from Portugal to Bohemia, and yet it is in the 
latter country that the new historical school has exerted a political 
influence second only in importance, if inferior at all, to that exer- 
cised by it in Portugal. The pdicy of the* Emperors, ever since the 
conclusion of the Thirty Years’ War, had been to stamp out the Czech 
nationality, and to Germanize the people of Bohemia. The Czech 
language was proscribed in legal and other documents, it was not 
allowed to be taught in the schools or in the University of Prague, 
and the children of the Czech nobility were carried off to be educated 
and married at Vienna. The work, then, of the Czech historical 





revival of the present century was not, as in PdSrtugal, ito resuscitate 
a pride of nationality which had never become extinct, although dor- 
mant, but to call back the Bohemian people to remember that they 
had once been a nation at all. Herculano had had a dij£cult task ; 
but that of Dobrowski and Palacky was still more difficult, for while 
the Portuguese language had never, even in the most debased days of 
Portuguese history, lost its form as a literary language; the Czech had 
for a century and a half been practically proscribed and regarded as 
a language fit only for the peasantry of Bohemia. Franz Palacky 
is the central figure of the Bohemian historical revival, and his 
influence was even greater, from a political point of view, than that 
of Herculano. He was the son of the village schoolmaster of Hods- 
lavice in Moravia, and was born in 17 ‘AS. He was educated at the 
University of Pressburg, and while acting as a private tutor in 
Vienna made the acquaintance of Schafaryk, the Bohemi|in poet, 
with whom he collaborated in many works during the next few years. 
In 1823 Palacky established himself at Prague, and began his re- 
searches into the old Czech chronicles, which w’erc to form the basis 
of his historical labours. He began modestly, by publishing articles 
and memoirs on special subjects; but his merit soon became know'ii, 
and in 1829 he was appointed national liiUoriographer by the States of 
Bohemia. From this time he steadily worked at his great History, of 
which, however, the first volume was not ])ublished for some years, 
and he pursued his search after authorities and authentic documents, 
not only in the public libraries of Europe, but also in the archives of 
the old Bohemian nobility. During these years of preparation he 
published two volumes which deserve mention — his History of the 

Early Years of Wallenstein,^^ and his ‘^Life of Joseph Dobrowski.^^ 
Palacky felt that his own work was to some extent the sequel of that 
of Dobrowski. Dobrowski was rather a philologist than a historian, 
but Palacky recognized how great his merits were, and how great 
the serviqels he had rendered to his country. Dobrowski had revived 
the study of the Czech language ; it was reserved for Palacky to 
rewrite Czech history. In 1836 appeared the first volume of Palacky^s 
History of Bohemia,^^ published simultaneously in German and 
Czech. The book made its mark at once, and it was recognized in 
Germany that a great genius fead risen. Palacky was essentially a 
disciple of the new historical school, a follower of Niebuhr. He had 
laboured diligefitly among chronick?s and documents to discover the 
truth, and, like Herculano, did not fear to destroy the legends which 
were most cherished by the .Bohemian people, when he found that 
they had no historical basis. The success of his work amoiig his 
fellow-countrymen was immense. In spite of the policy of Austria, 
the Czech national spirit had not been destroyed ; the nobility and 
bourgeois had been to some extent Germanized, but the Slav feelings 


had not been extinguished. The work of Palacky completed what 
Dobrowski and Schafaryk had begun ; it made known to the Czechs 
of the nineteenth century what manner of men their ancestors had 
been, and what great deeds in the past they had done for their 
descendants to remember with pride. Palacky no more caused the 
Bohemian revival of the present century than Hcrculano had caused 
that of Portugal, but he became the central figure, and the father of 
the new historical schoo^-there, which signalized the revival. Like 
Hcrculano, he did mpt bring his history down to modern times, but 
between 1836 ^ind 1854 he published six volumes, going down to the 
end of the reign of King Sigismund. The publication of each 
volume was almost an historical event; in each, old legends were de- 
stroyed, and the early history of the Czech people, with its curious 
and interesting development, was for the first time truly and clearly 

As has happened in Portugal, and in every country in which the 
new historical school has had a real influence, its leaders have played 
a political part, and a very important one. In 1848, the year of 
revolutions, troubles broke out in Bohemia, as in other parts of the 
Austria^ dominions, and a large portion of the youth of the nation 
loudly demanded the absolute independence of Bohemia. Palacky, 
though he had done so much to encourage the growth of the spirit of 
C/ech nationality, had studied history too deeply to be led away by 
lliis movement. He understood that by obtaining practical indepen- 
dence and local government the Czech nationality would gain all it 
wanted, that absolute severance from Au tria would involve the little 
State in perpetual quarrels with the German kingdoms around it, and 
;.liat a federal union w^ith *the rest of the Austro-Hungarian Empire 
would be a so^irce of strength and not of weakness to Bohemia. 
With these views, he boldly combated the extreme Czech party, and 
even accepted a scat in the Bohemian Cabinet as Minister of Public 
Instruction. Austrian statesmen did not forget his conduct at this 
epoch, and in I8GI the great historian was made a life member of the 
Austrian House of Lords. In the united Austrian Parliament he 
became, with his son-in-law, the* distinguished political economist 
Rieger, a leader of the Slav party, and steadily opposed the attempts 
of the more aggressive Magyar politicians to obtain for Hungary more 
than her fair share in deciding ^he policy of the Austrian Empire. 
But political afiairs did not wholly absorb the energies of IVaii:: 
Palacky^s later years. He never forgot that he was a historian more 
than ajiolitician, and that it was to his greatness as an historian that 
he owed his political influence. Like Herculano, he devoted himself 
after the completion of his History to the collecting and editing of 
ancient chronicles and documents. He knew that that was the only 
way by which early history could .be truly studied, and spared 

I 2 . 




labour in such work. He superintended all the editions of the 
Tarious publications of this nature issued by the Academy of Prague 
at the expense of the Bohemian Government^ and himself collected 
and issued a collection of documents on John Huss, the Czech re- 
former, which threw an entirely new light on the early career of the 
man who, with John Ziska, the blind general, shares the honour of 
making the Czech history for a period of the greatest importance to 
the general history of Europe. Palacky tjlmself died at Prague on 
May 26, 1876, but he left behind him a band o^ disciples, who have 
continued his labours, and have made the modern school of historians 
especially conspicuous and well represented in the little State of 
Bohemia. The publication of documents increases apace, and of the 
numerous series perhaps the most noticeable are the Fontes Berum 
Bohemicarum/' and the Codes Diplomaticus et Epistolaris Moraviae/^ 
while among the followers of Palacky may be mentioned Gindely, 
Tomek, and laroslav Goll, the learned author of the bulletins on 
Bohemian history published from time to time in the Revue 
Hisiorique. The labours of these historians and editors of docu- 
ments have all tended in the same direction — to ascertain the true 
history and development of the Czech people. The result has been 
a revival of the Czech spirit of nationality, which in some instances 
is carried almost to ridiculous extremes. The division of the University 
of Prague into a Czech and a German university in 1882, and the 
encouragement of the teaching in primary schools of the Czech 
language, literature, and history, is sufficiently praiseworthy ; but the 
affectation of some of the younger Bohemians, who, while knowing 
German, perfectly well, pretend*^ only to be able to speak Czech, is 
simply absurd. Yet this very affectation shows how great an influ- 
ence the Czech revival of the nineteenth century has exercised ; this 
small nationality planted in the heart of Germany preserves its pride, 
and is determined to hold its own against the Germans on the one 
hand and the Bussian Slavs on the other. Modern ideas will never 
allow another attempt to extinguish this national spirit, and Czechs 
in future ages, when they recognize the debt they owe to the leaders 
of the revival of the nineteenth century, will not fail to give the first 
p4ce to the founder of the modern historical school in Bohemia — to 
Franz Palacky. 

The influence of the modern scientific historical school is best 
illustrated in the cases of 'Portugal and Bohemia, and Herculano and 
Palacky are two great historians, whose careers and work are not 
generally known in England, and for those reasons more attention 
has been given to them than it is possible to give here to other small 
nationalities. Yet a few words must also be devoted to the effect of 
scientific historical work in Boumania, Finland, and Poland^ in each 


of which countries it has had an important political influence. In 
none of these countries has an historian arisen comparable to either 
Herculano or Palacky in the depth of their historical researches or 
the excellence of their style, but in all of them sound work has been 
done in publishing and critically examining ancient chronicles and 
documents. These editors and historians are all disciples of the new 
school of Niebuhr and of Ranke, and seem to have taken their in- 
spiration to become diligent seekers after truth, instead of cultivators 
of an elegant style, from Ranke’s Kritik Neuerer Geschichtschreiber," 
in which he pointed out the right method to pursue. If none of 
these historians can claim a place with Herculano and Palacky, they 
can yet boast of having possibly paved the way for the work of an 
equally great writer, and of having exercised an important influence 
over the minds of their countrymen. 

The vitality of the new historical school in Roumania is particularly 
remarkable, for in the Danubian provinces, which form that kingdom, 
even more strenuous efforts had been made to stamp out the national 
spirit than in Bohemia. The extraordinary rapidity with which the 
Roumanian people has re-asserted itself in reeent years, is one of the 
most remarkable facts in modern European history, and it is largely 
due to the labours of its historians. Up till 1822 the Roumanian 
language was vigorously proscribed ; the rulers of the Danubian 
provinces permitted instruction to the upper classes in the language 
of the rulers only, and while Slavonic, and in the days of the Phan- 
ariots Greek, was the official and fashionable language, used in 
educating the nobility and bourgeois, the peasants were left in igno- 
rance. Four men, whose names deserve record, first endeavoured to 
raise the Roumanian language to a literary level, and not only studied 
Roumanian history, but tried to teach the Roumanian people some- 
thing of their own early history. Of these four, George Schinkai 
was by far the most remarkable. He was an inhabitant of Transyl- 
vania, a Roumanian province which still remains subject to Hungary, 
and he first thoughf of trying to revive the Roumanian nationality 
by teaching the people their history. He arranged the annals of his 
country from a.d. 86 to a.d. 1739 with indefatigable labour, during 
the last half of the eighteenth century, and, according to Edgar 
Quinet, in such a truly modern manfier, after such careful weighing 
of original authorities, and with ^ch critical power, that he deserves 
to be ranked with the creators of the modern historical school. It 
need hardly be said that Schinka'i^s History was not allowed to be 
printed by the Hungarian authorities, who had no desire to see ^ the 
Roumanian nationality re-assert itself, and the censor marked on it 
“ opus igne, auctor patibulo dignus."' It was not published until 
1853, more than forty years after its completion, and then only at 



Jassy, for the Hungarians still proscribed it in Transylvania. 
Scbinkai^s friend, Peter Major, was more fortunate in his work, a 

History of the Origin of the Eoumanians in Dacia, which, as it 
did not touch on modern society, was passed by the Hungarian 
censorship, and printed at Suda Pesth in 1813. The two men who 
first taught Eoumanian history in the provinces which now form the 
kingdom of Eoumania were not such learned men as Schinkai and 
Peter Major, but their work was of more- 4 )ractical importance. In 
1813 George Asaky got leave to open a Roumanian class at the 
Greek Academy of Jassy, under the pretext that it was necessary to 
teach surveying in the Roumanian tongue, because of the questions 
which constantly arose in that profession, in which it would be 
necessary to speak to the peasants in their own language, and in his 
lectures he carefully inserted lessons in Roumanian history, and tried 
to arouse the spirit of the people. George Lazarus imitated him at 
Rucharest in 1816, and the fruit of this instruction was seen when 


the Roumanians partially regained tlicir freedom. The Moldo- 
Wallachian princes encouraged the teaching of Roumanian history, 
as they encouraged the growth of the spirit of Roumanian indepen- 
dence, and when the Roumanian Academy was founded, an historical 
section was formed with the special mission of studying and publish- 
ing documents connected with Roumanian history. The modern 
scientific spirit has spread widely throughout the kingdom, and such 
men as Odobescou, Papiu Ilarian, the Bishop IMelchizedck, and Alexis 
Xenopol, have done, and are doing, good hist(»rical work; while the 
publication by the Roumanian Academy of the scries of documents 
extracted from the archives at A ienna, having reference to Roumanian 
history, shows that it is thoroughly understood that good work can 
only be done, and truth only be discovered, by the critical study of 
original authorities. 

Though perhaps not to the same degree as in Roumania, it is 
curious to note that the modern historical spirit has spread even into 
Finland, where it is concentrated at the University of Abo. The 
Finns have never coalesced with the Slavonic population of Russia, 
and while showing no sign of rebellion or discontent as long as their 
own institutions are not interfered with, they have of recent years 
experienced a remarkable lifferary development. At present the 
Finnish revival has been, under t^e influence of Ahlquist, as much 
philological as historical but the pupils of the great philologist do 
not follow exactly in his steps, and show by their publications a 
Secfded tendency towards historical study. The most cariou$i point 
about this revival is that, except among some' of the younger Finn 
students, who dream perhaps of a Finnish republic, most of the 
historical teachers and writers openly avow^ their belief in the 


expediency of continuing the union of Finland with Russia^ in 
preference to being once more attached to Sweden. The dream of 
the Finnish national party at the beginning of this century was 
always for a reunion with Sweden, and it was on this account that 
Adolf Arwidspn, its leader, and Professor of History at the University 
of Abo, was banished in 1822. The modern Finnish historical 
students feel, as Palacky felt in Bohemia, that as long as Finland 
preserves practically its lotfftil independence, it is rather an advantage 
for her than otherwise to form part, for purposes of foreign affairs, 
with a great empire like Russia. Yet while advocating the main- 
tenance of the union, the Finns do not in any way renounce their 
own feeling of nationality, but, on the contrary, the development of 
the new historical school in their midst has, as in every other 
country, ^ly increased the pride of race. 

In Poland, the interest caused by the development of the new 
historical school in Germany is far greater than even in Portugal, or 
Bohemia, or Roumania, but it has not yet produced any distinguished 
hiitorian, and its influence has yet to be seen. The progress of the 
new treatment of history had particularly serious difficulties to 
encoufiiter in Poland, because of the singular success of the various 
badly written histories which appeared during the first half of the 
present century. Such works as those of Chodzko and Mieroslawski 
were conceived in the worst style of the eighteenth century ; eloquent 
ihey may have been, and patriotic to excess they certainly were, but 
they made no pretence of telling the simple truth. It is perhaps 
hard to blame exiles, who as a rule w rote and published in Paris,^ 
for these defaults, but nqjie the lcs*s they have done most serious 
damage to the right appreciation and study of Polish history. Of 
recent years a natural reaction has set in ; Polish historical students 
are publishing old chronicles and documents with bewildering 
rapidity, while there is a decided absence of real histories. This 
activity in the publication of historical material appears in Austrian, 
Prussian, and Russian Poland alike, but it naturally has its centre at 
Cracow. It would be impossible to name one-half of the numerous 
series of Polish documents which* are appearing all over Poland, but 
especially at Cracow and Leopol ; but a good analysis of their progress 
is to be found in M. Pawinski s bulfe'tin in the number of the Revue 
Historique for March 1887. Thp most important of these series arc 
the "Acta historica res gestas Polonise illustrantia,^^ in course (‘f 
publication at Cracow under the editorship of M. Piekosinski, and 
the "Scriptores rerum Polonicarum,*’^ also appearing at Cracow"; 
while the historians at L&pol, headed by Kentzynski, are producing 
a grand series of " Monumentii Polonise historica.^^ Nothing more 
clearly defines how strong is still the sentiment of Polish nationality 



than this activity of the Poles in the study of their history. The 
historical workers there are keeping alive the spirit of independence, 
and while that fire is fanned there is little chance that the Poles will 
ever coalesce with the different empires to which they are attached. 
It is the wise policy of Austria to permit and encourage these histori- 
cal studies, but it is almost a matter of surprise that they should be 
openly pursued in Russian and Prussian territory. The result has yet 
'to come ; meanwhile, many students, by wc^^king out the true history of 
their country, are rousing a more enduring love for her than the 
noisy parade of some of her former would-be defenders. The new 
method, it has been said, has hardly yet been fairly applied to the 
history of Poland ; editors are many, but historians are few. M. 
Pawinski mentions a manual by Professor Bobrzynski, but confesses 
that no real History of Poland, according to the latest lighte, has yet 
been written. Yet some good work has been recently oone after 
the scientific method, and the names of Korzon, Kalinka, and 
Pawinski himself, may all be mentioned as among the leaders of the 
new Polish historical school. 

Enough instances have been given to show how great has been the 
influence of the modern scientific historical school upon the smaller 
nationalities of Europe, and how the result of trying to write history 
with accuracy, instead of only with dramatic vigour, has been to 
revive the interest of the people in the story of the past. What* has 
actually been done has been pointed out in Portugal and Bohemia, 
and what is being done in Roumania, Finland, and Poland. But it 
must not be believed that these arc the only countries in which the 
new school is exerting its infltfenefe ; they arc only chosen as types. 
There are not, indeed, such men as Herculano and Palacky in the 
other nations, but most of the small nationalities can boast of some 
distinguished modern historians, who arc content to labour long and 
arduously before they bring forth their work, and in most of them 
the Government, or else an Academy subventioned by the Govern- 
ment, is publishing valuable series of authentic historical materials. 
It is almost invidious to mention names, but among leading historians 
in small nationalities, who show the impression of the scientific 
school, might be mentioned Altmeyer, Dclepicrrc, and Theodore 
Juste, in Belgium; Geijer, Cfonholm, and Fryxell, in Sweden; 
Erslev and Vedel in Denmark ; Lju^levit Gaj in- Croatia ; and Con- 
stantine Asopios and Constantine Schinkas in Greece. There is of 
course no use in comparing these local historians with the great 
iflasters of the modern school, with Ranke and Droysen, for exs^mple, 
or with Sorel and Cheruel, or Amari and Cesare Cantu ; but it may 
bei CQHtended that the actual influence exercised by their works is far 
greater. Great nations are not in any danger of losing their 


individuality ; small nations used io be in very great danger. Now 
that there has been a reviyal of the national spirit, it is not likely 
that the danger will recur ; and if it is to the advantage of Europe, 
as is surely the case, that these small nationalities should preserve 
their feelings of independence, if only to act as buffers to the growth 
of great empires, all. Europe, and not only the Portuguese, Czechs, 
Koumanians, Finns and Poles, should feel grateful to the local repre- 
sentatives of the scientific^ •historical school, as represented by two of 
the greatest modern historians, Alexandra Herculano and Franz 

H. Morse Stephens. 


I THI2?rK it may fairly be said that the well-to-do classes in this 
country really know very little about their working fellow- 
countrymen. I have myself knocked aboi^t the world a good • deal, 
and, out of England, I have, at various times, lived on terms of toler- 
able intimacy with all sorts and conditions of men. But, until the last 
ten years, I must confess that the lives led by the great mass of* the 
workers at home were almost a blank to me, and that, though 1 
wished them well, I scarcely entered into their feelings at all. As 
I don't think this was due to want of imagination or to the lack of 
sympathy, and I had certainly fenjoyed exceptional opportunities for 
observation in town and country, I suppose I may be taken as a fair 
specimen of ordinary educated men of good means. Between the 
modes of thought of the workers and of men who have never had to 
face the difficulties which surround those who live from hand to mouth 
by daily toil there is a great gulf fixed. Among the cultured minority 
there is a sort of unexpressed belief, which finds too often harsh 
utterance by many who arc merely rich, to the effect that if the 
working-men* were fit for anything better than to be hewers of wood 
and drawers of water for the minority, they w ould become a part of 
that minority themselves, and tffas cease to be hewers of, wood and 
drawers of water. The survival pf the fittest ” is one of those 
pseudo-scientific arguments, also, which does great service in support 
of this view. Nowadays a change is taking place, and there is, as 
P believe, a genuine endeavour among at any rate a large spetion 
of the upper and middle classes to learn what the multitudes around 
them really stand in need of or are making ready to demand. 

I was brought directly into contact with the workers of London 
in their own homes, for the first time about twenty years ago. The 



shipbuilding trade was then rapidly leaving the Thames for the Clyde, 
and East London was in a very depressed condition. Slumming” 
became quite fashionable,^ it has again become of late. I slummed 
myself — partly out of curiosity, partly out of* the hope that I might 
do some good. Emigration, than as now, was the great panacea put 
forward by well-meaning people ; charity was the remedy actually 
applied. I soon saw, as others saw, that, whatever might be thought 
of emigration, charity wag^ruinous. It cursed both him that gave and 
him that took. I could not but recognize that, as things stood, the 
trade must go, for the time at any rate ; that the strike of the ship- 
wrights against a reduction had but served to bring on the crisis a little 
sooner, and that the case therefore was hopeless. After some months 
of fitful work in conjunction with an intimate friend, now dead, I 
gave the visits up. But I have never lost the impression of what 
I then witnessed. The endless patience in terrible misery, the calm 
bearing up under almost unendurable suffering, a fourth of which 
would have driven men of my class into something little short of 
insurrection, was wonderful to behold. Then I regarded tffis passive 
attitude as the noble resignation of people who bore an unavoidable 
calamity with firmness and stoicism. Now I look upon it merely as a 
symptom of that hopeless apathy which until lately has afflicted the 
whole Working community. Much indeed were it^to be wished that 
wiii^ same doubtful virtue of j)atiencc were less practised among them, 
for their own sakes and for the sake of the future of our country. 

It is this uncertainty of employment, however, which more than 
anything else w^eighs upon working-men of ^1 grades. No man, 
even of the highest ability, can be sure of getting continuous work. 
A week or a fortnight’s notice, no matter what his previous career 
or character may have been, and he is out upon the streets seeking 
for a job. This drawback affects skilled artisans less than unskilled, 
and trade-unionists have, besides, their out-of-work pay to fall back 
upon. But it is an evcr-increasing evil even with them. The latest 
Keport of the Amalgamated Engineers, for instance, shows that, 
without any great strike to exhaust their funds, the mere necessity 
for supporting the members who can get no work to do has almost 
broken down their finances. Yet that is the strongest combination 
oi workmen of one trade in the World, and all our English trade- 
unions are, actuarially speaking, ^ankrupt, owing chiefly to this cause, 
at the present time. But the trade-unionists form only a' small 
minority of English working-men. Hundreds of thousands even of 
skilled artisans belong to no trade-union. Eor all of them, as udl 
as for the unskilled men, the uncertainty I speak of is terrible. I 
have watched friends of mine who have had to go round week after 
week, month after month maybe, seeking for a job. Such men do 
not parade their griefs, never or very rarely ask a middle-class man 



for help, and would utterly scorn to beg. Yet, as a highly skilled 
artisan said to me only a few days ago, " I would almost as soon 
go round begging bread as begging work ; they treat you as if 
it were a favour yoii asked/^ I have watched such men, I say, 
skilled and unskilled too, and the mental effect upon them of these 
long periods or short periods of worklessuess is more depressing 
than I can describe. Let a man have been never so thrifty, if he 
has a wife and children, a very few weeks qf idleness sweep away his 
savings ; then he begins to pawn what little things he has ; . later he 
gets behind with his rent. His more fortunate comrades help him — 
this is invariable so far as I have seen among all classes of labourers ; 
and then if he is lucky he gets into work again ; if not, his furniture 
goes, and he falls into dire poverty. All the time not only has the 
man himself been suffering and losing heart, but his wife has been 
fretting herself to death and the children have been half-fed. In 
the winter-time, when the uncertainty of getting work becomes in 
most of our great industrial cities the certainty of not getting it for 
a large percentage of the labouring men and w^omen, things are of 
course at their worst. After having vainly trudged around from 
workshop to workshop, from factory to factory, from wharf to wharf, 
after having, perhaps, fought fiercely but unsuccessfully for a few 
hours^ work at thf dock-gates, the man returns home, weary, hungry, 
half-dead, and ashamed of his growing raggedness, to see his heme 
without firing or food, perhaps to go to bed in order to try and 
forget the misery around him. 

The trade-unionist, of course, can take no jobs as an unskilled 
man. If he does, he at once forfeits all the results of his years of 
pavments to his union. To offer him even a fair wage out of his 
own line is simply to insult him with the chance of work he must 
not do. The non-trade-unionist or unskilled man at times of 
depression finds thousands like himself striving for employment at 
barely living rates of wages. After a few turns of such times a 
man’s spirit is broken. He never feels any confidence in his future. 
He knows but too well that at any moment he may have to undergo 
a similar experience. Those who ^ talk so glibly of thrift as a 
panacea for all the social ills of the workers can never, I am sure, 
have carefully tabulated the inebme of a working-class family one 
year with another, making allowance for the incidental expenses of a 
home of the humblest kind. Periods of slack work in all trades now 
come so much more often than they did that no amount of thrift 
can save the workers as a class from the effects of this grqwing 
uncertainty. The majority of them, of course, have no idea of the 
reasons for this fitfulness of employment even in good times, and the 
more frequent recurrence and heavier pressure of hard times when 
they come. But I am convinced that if any intelligent man, in any 


grade of labour^ were asked what on the whole occasioned him the 
greatest anxiety and made him most hopeless of his future, he would 
say this terrible uncertainty of which I have spoken. 

Closely bound up with this is the steady reduction in the age at 
which masters decline to take men on. In nearly all trades now a 
man with grey hairs in his beard is rarely engaged, and is the first to 
be discharged. Some firms, and these the largest, make it a rule 
never to employ men o\tr forty years of age if they can possibly 
help it. The reason for this is clear. The pressure of modern 
competition, the rapidity of modern machinery, are so great that a 
man must be , in the fullest vigour to keep pace with the current. 
Individual employers, harsh as they may seem, can scarcely be blamed. 
They have to carry out contracts against rivals, and adopt what they 
think is the best way of keeping their business in full swing.' It is 
the same with the coal- viewers in the colliery districts. None of 
them will take on a man nowadays, and especially since the 
Employers^ Liability Acts have been made morc?4tringent, who is at 
all past his first vigour. They will keep older pitmen who are 
accustomed to the work and make up by experience for loss of 
quickness, but they refuse to employ fresh hands over forty years of 
age. This, as will be seen at once, is a permanent cause of uncertainty 
and a constant drain upon whatever benefit funds the workers may 
contrive to rake together when in employment.* * 

Besides the greater stress of modern machinery referred to, the 
necessity, even without machinery, of getting through more work in 
lels time wears men out earlier than it used to. One of the saddest 
conversations I ever had was with a "fekilled joiner, a trade-unionist, 
who had reached the age of forty-four, having worked at his trade 
since he was fourteen. He had been thrifty, sober, and industrious, 
but his frame tiow was completely pulled to pieces, sickness had 
disabled him for many months, and the look-out for himself and his 
family was very black. After discussing the position, he said, as a 
Sheffield file-grinder might say in his place, “ I have worked on beyond 
the average of men in my trade, and I can’t complain myself. It is 
hard on my wife and family." •When statists prove to their own 
satisfaction that wages have risen, they invariably omit these con- 
siderations of slack time and the erf&ter rapidity with which men are 
now used up than they were formerly. In actual life these points 
are forced home deeply and keenly enough. * 

Here, too, comes in the positive loathing for the House," the 
workhouse, which has become more noticeable and more bitter within 
my memory. To begin with, of course the improvement in general 

* The Government, though often challenged, has never dared to publish the figures 
as to those out of work in East London. The official figures are really in excess of 
those given by the Social-Democratic Federation last winter. 


THE contemporary REVIEW. 

education and the better conditions of life which, on the whole, pre- 
vailed from about 1855 to 1875 produced their effect in rendering 
the entire working class more independent and less inclined to 
submit to the degradation of being separated from their relations and 
treated as paupers. I know of my own knowledge hundreds of 
families which have suffered the actual pangs of starvation, men, 
women, girls, and children of tender years, rather than be forced into 
the acceptance of indoor relief. They loak upon it as worse than 
going to prison. So do I, looking upon it for them. I can imagine 
nothing worse than the modern workhouse as a rule ; and I marvel, 
in view of the hostile report of the French medical men who came 
over to examine them on behalf of the French Government, that 
nothing is done to remedy the cruelty with which our Poor Law is 
administered. Put that is by the way. The workers at any rate 
dread and hate the workhouse ; and if T had the space to tell the 
tales of petty tyranny, of actual starvation, and revolting details 
which I have heardWrom time to time, no one w^ould wonder that 
respectable people of the working class prefer to starve outside to 
being starved and bullied inside these refuges for the destitute. Yet 
one in twelve of London workers dies a pauper. • 

Through all this, one feature of working-class life to which I have 
incidentally referred should be noted. Working-men, whatever may 
be their deficiencies in other respects, and they arc many and gpcat, 
as I shall show later, do as a rule stand by one another in trouble, 
and really think nothing of it. What is more, tJic poorer they arc 
the more certain is it that they will help their friends in distreS. 
But for this feeling of fellowship) among those wlio suffer most from 
uncertainty and have the greatest difficulty in keeping their heads 
above water, things would be yet worse with them than they are. 
From the well-to-do the workers expect neither help nor sympathy. 
A certain section of persistent cadgers of course there are in all 
great cities — men and women w^ho have become utterly broken down 
and disheartened in the struggle of life. These are ready to bow 
down and whine and cant and cringe in order to get the where-# 
withal to buy a meal or a glass of gin. But the overwhelming 
majority, though no doubt ready to take what may be offered them 
in times of trouble, are certainly*kot of this description. Neither in 
London nor in the country do English working-men of the industrial 
classes — differing in this I'espect certainly to a great extent from the 
ordinary agricultural labourer — expect, as a rule, consideration from the 
rich. In the Black Country, that a man of the upper classes sjiould 
take the slightest interest in the sorrows of the people is regarded as 
an inexplicable thing. An accident of a very distressing character 
occurred to a miner in one of the chief colliery towns of Stafford- 
shire. The poor fellow was completely crushed. A friend of mine 


who was stationed there (Herbert Burrows) went to see him as he 
lay dying, and got him a few things. Not a pitman^s family in the 
neighbourhood but was talking of this for .weeks afterwards. My 
friend, who is a well-known man in London, was pointed to as a 
phenomenon — a well-dressed person, not a doctor or a parson or a 
minister, wKo had been to see a pitman who had got hurt. Such an 
action had never been heard of before in the neighbourhood. This 
was on Lord Dudlcy^s property, where any one can see more hideous 
squalor and neglected physical and moral degradation in a week than 
will serve him for a lifetime. I mention that case, bwt it is only 
one out of many. That they should help and sympathize with one 
another is, however, among the poor a matter of course, though death 
and disease come too close to them in every-day life to leave any 
lasting impression on the mind. There is none of the sort of sham 
solemnity about death which is to be found in the houses of the rich. 
How can there be, when even comparatively well-to-do artisans can 
afford but two rooms ? The sick and the dying are in the midst of the 
household living, and are still in the midst of the household when dead. 

And this naturally leads me to speak of that question of the housing 
of the people wherein the workers agree fully with the conclusions 
of the Royal Commission, but in regard to which nothing of any 
importance has been or is being done. I know at this moment 
n-.mbers of families of excellent character, where the bread-winner 
himself is well educated and quite capable of appreciating the nature 
of his surroundings as well as the utter hopelessness of bringing 
up^children satisfactorily in such conditions, who are forced to live 
in what are little better than pigsties. Even artisans earning the 
highest wages are very badly off in this respect, as they are 
obliged to live near their work, especially in London, and this 
necessitates the payment of high rents. A working-man, as a rule, 
pays a far larger proportion of his income than the middle class for 
rent, and gets far worse accommodation for the rent he pays. On 
this point all classes ^rc agreed. It is scarcely too much to say 
that a great part of the j[$hysical degeneration observable among all 
descriptions of workeA is due to ijie bad, crowded condition of their 
dwellings. Glasgow, Liverpool, and other large towns, as well as the 
agricultural districts, are as bad as I^ndon in this respect. Though 
the scantily supplied new model dwellings are as dull as prisons 
and almost as bare, they show by the decreased death- and disease- 
rate how the workers suffer from their surroundings in the miserable 
rack-rented dens that the house-farmers are allowed to make fortunes* 
out of. * It is my opinion that nothing could possibly be done to 
improve the health of ||ie people which would produce a greater 
effect than immediate attention to this dwelling question. That a 
reduction in rents, if universal, would in present conditions be^ 



followed probably by an equal reduction in wages would not interfere 
with the healthier conditions of existence which they would gain. 
No one who knows froni personal experience the manner in which 
millions of our working countrymen are pigged together — evidence 
on this head of the most revolting character is to be found throughout 
the Report of the Royal Commission on the Housing of' the Poor — 
can wonder that they are not such fine specimens of humanity as 
could be wished. The marvel is that tlie^children grow up with any 
sound physique at all. Even in the mining districts of the North, 
where the jiitmen are, though rough, sound, vigorous, well-educated 
men, the villages, with their rows of hovels sandwiched between 
rows of dustbins and water-closets, are a disgrace. Everywhere we 
look, in short, it is impossible not to observe that all serious im- 
provements in town and country have so far stopped short of the 
homes of the people. 

How is it they themselves donH use their increasing power in the 
State to compass social gain for themselves and their children ? How 
is it ? Unfortunately, the answer is only too ready. Because as a 
whole they are too ignorant, too apathetic, and too much split up 
among themselves. The last point is p^erhaps the most important of 
all. ^^What is the Third Estate?^^ asked the Abbe Sieyes. '^Nothing. 
What should it be? Everything.^^ Nowadays that saying might be 
applied with far more reason to the working class. If, however, as 
I have said, there is little common feeling between the workers and 
the well-to-do, and a knot of working-men will almost instinctively 
stop their conversation if a gentleman comes in upon them, even 
though they know him pretty well and the subject is quite unim- 
portant — ^i£ this is unfortunately the case between two clearly defined 
strata in our society, there is far too much of the same sort of thing, 
though of course not in that precise form, between the difiPerent 
grades of the working classes themselves. Skilled artisans, for in- 
stance, rarely mix much with unskilled labourers, or take any deep 
interest in their grievances. They are shut out, if trade-unionists, 
by the rules of their trade from any active co-operation with them. 
Not unfrequently they neglect to ts^.ke account of the sufferings which 
the labourers have to undergo in consequence of the enforced idle- 
ness inflicted upon them by reason of their own strikes ; though, 
seeing that the simple labourers have no organization of their own to 
fall back upon at such times, and are little likely to get funds from 
the outside public, they suffer far more than the skilled men, with 
still less prospect of advantage even in the event of victory. This 
was the state of affairs in the unfortunate strike among the coal-hewers 
of Northumberland, which has lately termin^ed after four months^ 
struggle. The labourers, who are outside the trade-union, were in a 
most miserable condition, literally starving, they, their wives, and 



their children ; the unionists having been out against a reduction of 12| 
per cent, in their already low wages. It is pitiable to see such misery, 
knowing well, too, that the people who suffer can never have at any 
time of their lives any real leisure or enjoyment to compensate them 
for it. On the. other hand, in the case of the great strike at the 
Llanberis slate-quarries, the unionists who had savings gave up 
their strike pay in the lloblest way for the benefit of the non-union 
men, though these very mf& been against the formation of a 
union at all. As a rule, nevertheless, skilled workers ffl different 
trades and unskilled labourers of various occupations do not recog- 
nize that in the main their interests are identical. Men who earn 
high wages rank themselves as a sort of aristocracy of labour, and 
look down* upon their less fortunate brethren. This is one of the 
greatest stumHing-blocks in the way of the social improvement of 
the working class as a whole — ^this, with the competition between 
the labour of men and women, which, in present conditions, has a 
most depressing effect upon the whole class of workers, women as well 
as men. Since I was a boy I have seen women^s labour displace that 
of men in many departments of exhausting factory labour, where, 
but thai women are cheaper and more docile, the men are unquestion- 
ably the better suited to the work. This, however, is too large a 
question to be dealt with cursorily. It is enough to say that the 
'oLg-continued depression and the breakdown of the union finances all 
round are forcing even the most skilled men to take a wider view of 
the situation, and are proving to them the folly of mere strikes. 

Nothing is more discouraging to any one who goes much among 
the workers than their lack of initiative and " go.” They have 
grievances enough in the course of their daily life to cause them to 
bestir themselves, Heaven knows ; but they too often display hopeless 
. stolidity when the possibility of complete change is pointed out to 
them. Among the older ones apathy has become chronic. They 
have lived through a period of sluggishness in which social questions 
have been thrust into'the background, and they ask in sheer helpless 
fatuity, " What arc we^to do ? ” Moreover, they are so accustomed 
to put out their thinking and political organization to be done for 
them by this faction or that, by a wire-puller or a sectarian of some 
sort, that the idea that any real chp’i^e for the better must come 
from themselves seems absurd to Ihem at first. And this I have 
found quite as true in the manufacturing districts of the North of 
England and Scotland as in Loudon and the South. Everywhere, no 
doubt, there is a certain percentage who are almost beyond hope of " 
being reached at all. Crushed down into the gutter, physically and 
mentally, by their social Surroundings, they can but die out, leaving, 
it is to be hoped, no progeny as a bui'den on a better state of things. 
Eut I am not speakin|; of them. I speak of the great body of the 




people who work with their hands for wages^ and of them it is certain 
that the majority, the oyerwhelming majority, over five or six and 
twenty years of age, though ready enough to admit the truth when 
put to them, are so far quite incapable of taking any initiative of 
their own to remedy their own deep-seated grievances With the 
younger men who are now coming into the workshop and the factory 
from the Board Schools the case is different! They have learnt just 
enough to be personally desirous to learn ^nore, and to wish to obtain 
better conditions of existence than their parents. This they soon find, 
by bitter experience, is impossible as things stand. From among these 
younger men are arising the leaders o^ the working people everywhere; 
while the young women, also, are less inclined than their mothers 
were to accept the inevitable and live and die workers " for wages. 
That is the result of my observation — that the rising generation will 
be far more discontented and far more exacting in its demands 
than that which is passing away. As, at the same time, wages are 
being reduced and uncertainty of employment is increasing, the 
probability of a thorough change is greater. These younger people are 
losing confidence in the old organizations, political and social. They 
see that trade-unions are of little real value, and that mere politics arc 
of no use at all. That they have not yet come to a direct practical 
conclusion as to what they mean to do I recognize as clearly as 
any one. 

But here must again be noted that physical degeneration which, 
in spite of all optimist statements, is so striking a feature in our 
urban and even in our rural population. Among the factory 
operatives throughout Great ^Britain an average man of the upper 
classes will find that he is taller, stronger, and in every way better 
developed than ninety-nine out of every hundred of these workers. 
Navvies, coal-heavers, and others who work in the open air are, of 
course, more powerful ; but even these are not, so contractors tell 
me, equal to what they were. I think I can notice the physical 
degeneration myself. Thirty years ago I spent a considerable time 
reading with a tutor at Stockport, and I saw a great deal of the 
neighbourhood, visiting the mills !in nearly all the towns around, and 
attending large gatherings, as at racecourses, public meetings, cricket 
matches, and the like. It is undoubtedly very difficult to compare one^s 
impressions at such a distance of^^ime when the observer has himself 
changed so much. Buf it is certainly my opinion that the people are 
smaller than they were, and I am sure they seem no bettmr off in other 
respects. All the social mischiefs which I remember then ^to have 
heard descanted upon seem to me still to flourish quite unchecked. 
The bad housing, the neglect of the children by the mothers, the very 
early sexual connections, in an4 out of wedlock, formed by the boys 
and girl«, the want of scope . for enjoyment %{ a healthy kind, all 


seem pretty much as they used to be, or even worse. And my 
general impression is supported by the records of the Blue Books, the 
returns of the certifying surgeons, and the fact that the standard for 
recruits for the army has been reduced from 5ft. 5ft. Sin. 
since the Queen came to the throne. The inferior, indigestible 
food, especially the lack of milk for the children, the bad, close air, 
and the want of proper physical relaxation, following upon begettings 
from a stock already enfefebled by overwork and privation, have 
produced their natural effect. Since I was last in Manchester two suc- 
cessive bishops have enlarged upon the deplorable results, physical and 
moral, of this degeneration. The tendency at present in our cities is 
therefore to the reproduction of excitable, nervous organisms, educated 
enough to understand the misery of their surroundings, and therefore 
bitterly discontented with them, yet suffering from privation which 
renders them physically depressed. 

Amid all these drawbacks, nevertheless, teetotalism spreads and co- 
operation is increasing. That is undoubted. But teetotalism, beneficial 
as it may be to the individual, does not help its votaries to any 
permanent improvement. Most of the active men among those whom 
I have .worked with for the last few years are teetotallers : the best 
known of them all are. What they tell me is that though a tee- 
totaller has an advantage over his fellows in health, as they believe ; 
'a the preference given by an employer to a teetotaller as a steady, 
sober man ; and in the little savings which can be made for bad. times ^ 
yet that the pressure now is so severe, and teetotallers have become 
so numerous, that the general advantage gained is, after all, but 
trifling. ^A teetotaller can hold on a little longer than a man who 
takes beer or spirits — though, be it observed, as they say to me, tee- 
total drinks, outside of water, are not so very cheap — by dint of his 
savings, and has of course a great superiority over a mere drunkard ; 
but, if I am to trust my own experience, the percentage of teetotallers 
thrown out of work and into difficulties is very little if at all^elow 
that of the rnuch-maligned moderate drinkers. I do not deny, of 
course, that drink is a gurse to the workers as to any other class, but, 
apart from the fact that misery is t^e cause of alcoholism far more 
than alcoholism is the cause of misery, the truth is that total absti- 
nence cannot save the worker fropr ^eing crushed in our present 
society. So far as the progress of ttie working class goes, I only wish 
they were all completely sober. But the wtole of their life must 
be changed before that can be possible, and then, to use a paradox, 
it will nett be necessary. 

» Then there is co-operation. That is chiefly to be seen in the 
North of England. There it has attained vast proportions so far as 
distribution is concerned ; and many of the co-operative concerns 
are very fairly managed. What I find .among co-operators, as among 

K 2 . % 



fanatical teetotallers, is a certain narrown^s of vision, leading them 
to imagine that they have found the' more excellent way. 1 will not 
here enter into the general arguments against the co«operative system 
as we see it.. But in this case, as with total abstinence, 1 fall to 
observe that the workers are protected against those fearful uncer- 
tainties due to the development of machinery, the constant shifting of 
centres of industinj', and the recurrence of world- wide industrial crises 
which produce such frightful effects. doubt the co-operators get 
their goods cheaper and of better quality when they are in work. 
This is an enormous gain, 1 admit ; for the small retail system means 
for them the worst possible articles at the highest possible prices, and 
they are thus fleeced every way. But on the other hand, and this 
any one who wishes can note for himself, the predictions of Bronterre. 
O^Brien and others have been fulfilled to the letter in regard to the 
narrowing of the horizon of aspiration which this perpetual dealing 
with twopenny-halfpenny gains involves. While men are debating 
about their gains on sugar, on bacon, on tea, coffee, &c., they are apt 
to lose sight of their far more important interests as a class. They 
become imbued in a small way with the trading spirit of profit, which 
is quite opposed to the true spirit of co-operation. This injures the 
tone of the working people, who, as a body, are, in spite of all draw- 
backs, more open to the reception of high conceptions of duty 
and far-reaching ideals of what might be than the upper or middle 
jclass. ^ That is a reason why mutual lending societies among the 
workers are in the long run not beneficial. The shareholders look to 
their 10 per cent., or whatever the rate may be, and forget their mutu- 
ality in money-lending. A fridnd of mine, not a Social Democrat, who 
was one of the most skilled workers in his trade in Loudon^ started a 
little mutual business of this kind in Soho with the best intentions, 
and the effect was anything but good. To return to co-operation ; it 
has never taken root in London, and probably never will, on a large 
scale^ There are few facilities for storage in London rooms ; " people 
are in the habit of buying their goods from hand to mouth in very 
small quantities, and cooking apparatus is of the worst description. 
But it may be doubted whether all workers turned co-operators in 
buying they would he appreciably better off than they are to-day. 

Certainly, nothing which th%working classes have done for them- 
selves has as yet touched th^main causes of their depression. 
Overwork is still as crushing as ever in nearly all departments of 
business. The curtailment of hours in skilled branches is but nominal 
after all. What has' been gained is more than made up by greater 
intensity of labour during the hours worked; while persistent "over- ^ 
time," though it may give the men more wages, takes more out of 
them, as. they always say, than the extra remuneration they get. On 
the other hand, in many directions the number of hours worked have 



been increased without auj proportional increase of wages. This 
has been the case with omnibus end tramcar drivers and conductors^ 
shojtaen and shopwomen, railway men, the slaves of the sweaters, 
and others. It is almost impossible for those who are thus kept 
perpetually at high pressure to find the time for deep reading or 
discussion, and 1 am surprised that people who are thus overdriven 
know as much as they do. To look properly after their families 
is too often quite impo^ble for women and men alike. For 
political and social information they are, as a rule, wholly dependent 
on the weekly paper — the importance of which in th||| coming 
democratic period is noi%et fully understood — and gossip. Of course 
the more active contrive to do much more than this, and some 
actually wear themselves out in social and political agitation, which 
calls fpr continuous reading at great (proportional) expense and 
sacrifice. But hard work and long hours keep the majority from any 
adequate study of their surroundings. That is the real difficulty in 
all proposals based upon the votes of the workers. We are in a 
vicious circle. The workers themselves have not the leisure, as they 
themselves admit, to master the causes of their unfortunate position. 
The classes above them, who possess the education, have a direct 
inteiest in maintaining the present system. 

In any case the two portions of the working class who suffer most 
neither agitate nor act for themselves. The women and children of 
the wage-earners have before them a most unenviable prospect. Of 
course there are lucky families which go through life with a fair 
amount of comfort, and have a reasonable share of material happiness, 
such as a man not having too many children, who is in steady 
employment at good wages, can secure to himself and his belongings. 
But the numbers of those who are thus fortunate may easily be 
exfi-ggerated, and at best they constitute a small proportion of the 
whole. And, for the rest, the heaviest part of the domestic trouble 
alwayi falls upon the woman. Take a married female factory hand, 
for example, who may be earning good wages, though the rates of 
such wages are as habitually exaggerated as the wages of colliers 
are, what home-life is there for iSer ? She . is obliged to hurry off 
to the mill early in the morning, in cold or fog, rain or snow, barely, 
perhaps, recovered from her coufinnanent, leaving her '■babe at the 
most critical stage of its existence to the care of strangers. Her 
husband and herself together earn no1baor6 than enough to rent a 
decent room or two or a small cottage. As the children grow up they 
are packed oflf to school, but the expense of keeping them increases/ 
and the mother, herself pulled to pieces by heavy work, sees her 
offspring developing into puny, weak lads, far different from the rosy- 
oheeked boys whom she renfembers playing in the village where she 
waS born. Then comes a period when the millft work short time, or 



are shut down altogether. Husband^ children^ htrself, all in fearful 
want for weeks or months, losing strength and losing heart at the 
same time^ looking forward at last to the renewal of the Mulb 
monotonous work at the loom or the spindles in bad, close air, with 
• cotton or wool fluff flying all round, as the best hope in the world. 
What wonder that such women sometimes take to drink ? What 
marvel that homes which are no homes almost drive boys and girls 
' forth to the only pleasures left to thcan — drink and lust ? But 
what is true of the cotton and woollen districts is equally true else- 
where. ^prostitution itself, if we are to believe the testimony of 
every great doctor who has examined intc#the question, is, in our 
great towns, an evidence of the overwork and underpay of women. 
The girls take to the streets in the ffrst instance to supplement a 
starvation wage. More than a generation fias passed^ since. Hood 
wrote the Song of the Sliirt,^^ and still the hopeless seamstress 
stitches on — the machine has intensified the labour, but left the wages 
where they were. All this meets any man who goes much among the 
working class. He sees daily and hourly such a hideous waste of 
life, such never-ending ruin of physical and mental faculties, such 
terrible suffering and privation borne by those whom he gets tg know 
and respect, that his inclination is to turn off in another direction, 
and to believe, in spite of the teachings of science to the contrary, 
that all this is inevitable. To watch the gradual breakdown of shop- 
girls and barmaids from sheer overwork and excessive standing is 
itself almost as bad as to see the match-girls and sweaters* hacks at 
the East-end of London crushed out of existence by short food and 
hopeless toil. I never hear or^read strong advocacy of unrestricted 
women^s labour but the picture of these over-driven women in every 
branch of industry in which women arc employed rises before me. 
How is it possible for them to beget healthy offspring when their 
physical strength is thus enfeebled ? 

And then the children. Their lot is a sad one too. NMe too 
strong when bom, they are, many of them, brought up under every 
possible disadvantage. I only wish a census, a trustworthy census, 
could be taken of all the children^ in Great Britain who are insuffi- 
ciently clothed and insufficiently fed. I am confident the return would 
horrify those who think well ofi^our civilization. This is what the 
workers feel most bitterly — the impossibility of giving their children 
the good milk and othei* nodHshing light food which the conditions 
of city life render more rather than less essential to their well-being. 
'Uncertainty, strikes, slack time, bad trade, reduction of wagei^^ all tell 
at once upon the health of the children. A keen observer can detect 
it immediately. This of all the sad features in a period of depres- 
sion is the saddest, and I should advise hny one who wants fully to 
appreciate the irony of our civilization to be present at the Sehbol 


Board summonses for noi^-ratteudance of cbildren at school or non-pay- 
ment of school fees. There is a silent tragedy in each case. And 
none are quite safe from this sudden calamity. No worker can be sure 
that his children will not be left in destitution^ or, the much-paraded 
returns of the Savings Banks notwithstanding, that he will not find 
himself at the end in the workhouse. 

And yet, as I have said, in spite of all drawbacks, the working 
class display noble qualities^ and have a capacity for understanding the 
possibilities which lie before the race far in advance of their nominal 
superiors. I have spoken as I have seen. But I do not l^lieve, for 
one thing, that any man gains the confidence of the workers by 
flattering them. Certainly there is much which is contemptible in 
the serviler following of a name ; but the mere windbag, the self-seek- 
ing demagogue who wishes to curry favour, loses his influence very 
quickly. It is often stated that the democracy is fickle. I don^t 
believe it. My charge against my working countrymen is that, on 
the contrary, they stick too faithfully to men who, having done them 
some little good, have afterwards deceived them time after time. This 
steady adherence to their chosen leaders — instances of it will occur to 
all as they read — completely gives the lie to the current notion so far 
as Englishmen are concerned, and is indeed a manifestation of that 
quality of trustfulness and confidence which will yet render our people, 
S.S they recover from their physical degeneration, the most formidable 
democracy the world has seen. They have still the love of fair play 
Jnd open debate with order which we of the educated class are said 
to be losing, and they will allow a fair adversary or a friendly critic 
to say things to them which are assujediy far from agreeable, and per- 
mit references to be made to their apathy and ignorance, which I do 
not believe would be put up with by the men of any other nation. 
When the French workmen delegates came over from the Paris Muni- 
cip.Jity last year, they were in amazement at the calm self-restraint 
and discipline of the great meetings of working-men — most of them, 
of course, holding the extremest opinions — which they saw through- 
out Great Britain. Speaking of the great demonstration in Trafalgar 
Square, one of the* ablest of t|^icra said to me, " If we had such 
a meeting as this in Paris, we should want to capture the city.^* 
This natural capacity for orderly gathering, this voluntary discipline 
which is so marked a feature o^^ll English crowds, betoken great 
qualities of citizenship. It will be the fault pf the governing classes,^^ 
not of the people, if we have to face in this country another such 
period of rioting and suppressed civil war as lasted from 1835 to 
1842* and partially tilL 1848. The working classes are patient to 
long-sufiering and apathy. They welcome reforms with a gratitude 
out of all proportion to the benefit conferred. But they, in common 
with the rest of the world, see that the social question, their ques- 



tion^ now presses for solution ; ihey^ or at any rate tlie younger ones 
among tliem^ feel the increasing competition and struggle for exist- 
ence as unnecessary and unjust. Peaceful and law-abiding as they 
are, therefore, they will not he patient for ever. A new spirit is 
abroad among the workers thropghout Great Britain, and matters 
yrhich closely concern them, the knife-and-fork questions of which 
Stevens the Chartist spoke on Kcrsall Moor upwards of forty years 
ago, are being daily discussed in the diviner-hour and at the clubs. 
And now ideas spread faster than ever, and conditions develop ^more 
rapidly. .The period of social apathy is clearly at an end. Let us 
hope that a full and timely recognition of the just demands of the 
people, an endeavour to realize, in part at least, the ideal of national 
and international industrial co-operation; now firing the minds of the 
labouring classes throughout Europe, will enable England to take 
that lead in the peaceful re-organization of society for which she is 
fitted by the state of her economical development and the political 
freedom which, on the whote, her inhabitants enjoy. 

H. M. Hyndman. 




A MOKG the countries of the distant East, China holds the highest 
place in the estimation of the Western world. She will certainly 
keep the position she has won, and it becomes a duty for Western 
statesmen to make themselves acquainted with her history and resources. 
The combinations of educated intelligence with vast population, of 
homogeneousness of race with fertility of production, of excellence of 
climate with vast mineral resources, unite in giving her a unique position 
among the Eastern nations. 

The Marquis Tseng has told us in vigorous metaphor that China was 
always powerful, though she did not know it, and that she is now better 
acquainted than ever before with the realities of her position. She has 
many skilled diplomatists, who know how to *take advantage for her 
good of the mutual jealoo.nes and fears of the European States. These 
men study telegrams and read translated leaders from the Times, The 
viceroys and governors serve their country loyally, and rejoice in her 
prosperity. They appreciate highly the usefulness of political craft, and 
when the cloud of expected war hangs over the European horizon at any 
point, they cherish the hope that they may by diplomatic skill make the 
changed combinations of Western politics subserve the interests of their 
country. They are better statesmer^ than they are generals, and they 
are beginning to enj[oy Western politics as an interesting game of skill 
in which they may take part with every prospect of success through that 
un impassioned ©riental astuteness wjvch is the gift of their race. Europe 
has six great Powers, America one, and Asia is now aspiring to be recog- 
nized, and is recognized, as having one great Pbwer also. War has done 
China much good by making her sensible of her deficiencies, and showing 
her. how she can best cope with foreign Powers. She is now strongei^ 
than she ever was before, and she will become stronger yet. It is quite 
within her power to increase the number of her trained soldiers, to gain 
still more aid from the employment of foreign officers, and to strengthen 
the forts which guard her harbours. It has been proved that Chinese 
soldiers can meet European soldiers on the field of battle, behave well. 



and oblige their opponents, after honrs ot^severe fighting, to return to 
their ships, worn out. Then they have seen them weigh anchor and sail 
away, leavingChina in possession of the territory they coveted. It may 
on some future occasion be proved that China can also take care of her 
war-ships when unexpectedly attacked by some foreign enemy. She has 
now initiated an elaborate system of naval instruction, so that her war- 
vessels will in future, it is to be hoped, be manned by more competent 
persons. There is nothing to prevent the command being given to men 
of energy, promptitude, and courage, whether^Chinese or foreign. Should 
there at some future time be unfortunately another war, China’s navy 
may quite possibly prove able to take care of itself, and indict loss on 
those who attack her. If this be the result of the naval training now 
being given in the newly established schools, the Government and people 
of the Middle Kingdom will certainly have made advancement, and con- 
sidering the experience they have gained in fighting, and their possession 
of Western artillery, they may be said to be stronger now than they ever 
were before. But it is unsafe to prophesy. The Chinese fight better on 
shor^han at sea, and they have not yet had a naval hero. 

Although the imperial family is Manchoo, and new to China two 
centuries and a half ago, tha^ patriotism of the viceroys and governors is 
undoubted ; they are animated by a real love for the Government^a love 
which seems to survive undiminished the severe \)anishments to which 
they are, when in fault, sometimes exposed. Their humble submission to 
chastisement is most remarkable, and loyalty is a virtue which is assidu- 
ously cultivated from their earliest youth. The patriotism of the 
governing class has been conspicuous for a generation in the band of 
Hoonan patriots who have occupied high positions. The province of 
Hoonan lies north of Canton and .«outh of the Yang-ize river. Hoo- 
linyi was one of these patriots. He was Governor of Hoo-pei when the 
Taiping rebellion broke out, and formed the plan by which it was ulti- 
matelyput down. Tseng-kwo-faa, the first Marquis Tseng, and bis son and 
successor in the marquis^te, just returned irom Europe, and his brother, 
the Viceroy of Nanking, and another son, treasurer of Kwei-chow, all 
belong to this baud. Another member of it was Kwo sung-tau, who 
came as Minister to England ten years ago. Tso-tsung-tang, who 
re-conquered Cashgar after a revolt of twenty years, was another. Peng- 
yii-lin, who was sent to Canton as special commissioner to assist the 
viceroy in keeping the French away from that important city, is also a 
member of this band ; and so is l"ang, the Viceroy of Foochow. These 
men slowly rose from comparative \ obscurity, alid they have unitedly 
aided in the enthusiastic endeavour to restore peace to their native 
country by quelling rebellions, whether Taiping or Mahommedan. 
There is abundant evidence of the^^devoted loyalty of snch men to the 
Government. The same may be said of the public men belonging to 
other provinces, such as ‘the redoubtable Li-hung-eliang, viceroy of the 
metropolitan province, and one of the Grand Secretaries. There is not 
•the least reason for doubting his fidelity even during those years when 
many foreigners said he was not to be trusted, and was himself planning 
revolt. Those who spoke thus did not know the man, nor did they 
understand the country. 1'here is positively no ground for questioning 
tile loyalty of any of the viceroys or governors, and as they are men of 
tried ability, who have passed through many years of service in inferior 



posts, by which they have acquired much official experience, they form 
a staff of useful public servants, who keep the wheels of the State 
vehicle moving, and avert many a danger threatening the public 

The fact that the Manchoo nation rules the Chinese does not weaken 
China. The people, and especially the literati of China, are loyal to 
the imperial family just as if it were Chinese. The Emperor is to me 
the donor of literary rank, and his ancestors gave my ancestors literary 
honours for seten or eight^generations. I owe him fealty as the fountain 
of my honours.^’ Such is a specimen of the way in which they reason, 
and it is an understood thing that any who, on occasion of a popular 
rising at any place, may be acting as chief magistrates, must die rather 
than quit their posts. To talk politics is in common life not allowed. 
The well-conducted citizen pays his taxes, attends to his own affairs, and 
avoids criticizing the Government. If he goes to take a cup of tea in a 
large tea-shop, he sees written up in large characters — Do not talk 
politics. The master of the house wishes his customers to avoid such 
conversation, on his own account as well as on theirs.” Peq||e will 
converse of course on political subjects, notwithstanding this injunction, 
and run the risk of being observed by some one who may report what 
they have been heard to say, with additions. The daily newspaper, too, 
is forcing its way as an exciting novelty, and its compact dose of news, 
local and foreign, is growing into a necessity. But the old system is 
built up on the absence of political thought as u foundatiou, and it is 
coiisiderf^d that this abstinence from criticism of the Government is a 
'bity. Passivity engenders loyalty, as in some countries ignorance is 
thought to be the mother of devotion. In China a prudent man does 
not call in question the wisdom of the powers that be. The ancient 
emperors who ruled badly are criticized. History holds her balances, 
and puts each actor on the scene into li^r scales, to decide what good 
he has done and what evil j but as to#the living, silence is golden. 

Certainly, revolutions in Chinese history have been numerous, and the 
people have more than < nee shown very strongly the desire to expel 
foreign dynasties. But the Government has always been despotic, and a 
chpnge of dynasty is only a change of masters. The good to be gained 
by an uprising is problematical. The risks to be run by a rebel are 
overwhelmingly great. The patriotic cry of China for China has its 
effect only when a rebellion has become powerful enough to maintain 
order and conduct the literary examinations throughout whole provinces. 
Then the people have* no choice, and they transfer their loyalty to those 
who have the power. At the beginning of the Ming dynasty, in the 
lourteenth century, China became intensely patriotic when the Mongol 
emperors were driven out. In the fury of the people^s zeal at that time 
• the Nestorian missions disappeared, and the Homan Catholic churches and 
fathers in Pekin were not again heard of. It was not that the religion 
they taught wus hated ; the people hated its foreign origin. In tie 
twelfth century the population in North China yere loyal to the Goldt^ii 
dynasty, which was Tartar; whileiSouth China was loyal to a native 
imperial family. Treaties of peace were made at that time with the 
imperial title of the emperors the same for the two countries, and written 
at the same height on the paper. The patriotism of China for China did 
not at that time lead maqy of the northern people to travel to South 



China, and reside there rather than lire under foreign masters; but there 
were some such^ and among others we hear of the hereditary dukes, the 
descendants of Confucius, having done this. The i*emaining descendants 
of the sage remained in their old home under the Tartar dynasty, and one 
of them was made a duke, to keep up the sacrifices. During this period 
the vianes of Confucius received double honours under the fostering 
patronage of the two emperors, Chinese and foreign. The Chinese 
practically do not distinguish the Manchoo empire in their thoughts from 
the Chinese empire. Their patriotic feeling is one and undivided. The 
Taipings thirty years ago failed to attract the sympathy of the well- 
dressed classes in any part of China. They raised the cry of China for 
China entirely without success. The religion of the Taipings was 
foreign, and the hearts of the people remained with the Manchoos, who 
have consistently maintained the institutions and religion of China. That 
the Chinese show not the least desire to expel the Tartar dynasty, and 
have remained faithful to it through the foreign wars and the native 
rebellions of the last half-century, proves that China is an undivided 
unit has a genuine loyalty to the reigning family. This ought to 
be unoerstood by the European observer who would estimate accurately 
the extent and stability of Chinese i)ower. 

Five-and-thirty years have passed since the Taiping rebellion com- 
menced in China. They have been mostly years of weakness and disorder. 
A new period of prosperity has, however, i>pw begun its course, and the 
cessation of the Chinese Emperoris minority just at this time will have 
caused many eyes to he directed to that country which has so lately 
entered into diplomatic relations in a regular manner with all the great 
powers of the West. The rebellions which have weakened it are at an 
end, and China is now a great Asiatic Power. It is the time to taktj a 
nearer view. 

On February 7th, 1887, at nine o'clock in the morning, the young 
monarch of that country, just fifteen years and a half old, was present at a 
special ceremony in the great hall of audience, where he received the 
homage of about four hundred of the princes, nobility, and officers of State, 
on the occasion of his personally undertaking for the first time the respon- 
sibility of the government. The Empress Regent last summer fixed this 
early time for the Emperor’s attaining his majority under the impression 
that he had shown great diligence and made great j)rogTess in his studies, 
and that the termination of difficulties with Fra nee afforded a suitable 
opportunity for her to resign to him the reins of power. Her decision 
caused great trepidation to the Ministers. It seemed too soon. The 
Empress’s wisdom and experience were still needed in the conduct of the 
government. A compromise was proposed and adopted, and in conse- 
quence the Emperor has assumed personal authority, hut the Empress 
assists still in the government as the Emperor's chief adviser. 

The Tai-ho-tien, where flie ceremony of installation took place, is the 
same lofty hall in which the Emperor receives the homage of his Court 
on New Year's Day and on other special occasions. His personal suite 
surround him at such times. Four secretaries stand on the* right, 
'liolding pencils and tablets to record what the Emperor may say. *On 
each side there is a hand of musicians, outside the hall door, on the broad 
marble terrace which fronts it. The music is soft and low. Voices 
edbompany sweet-tuned instruments, and the words chanted express 
^ firratulation. ZiOi^ sounds are hot permitted. Below the terrace are 



arrayed the courtiers according to rank, including on this occasion none but 
those of high grades | and beyond them are more musicians. These last 
make louder sounds than are permitted on the terrace. Beyond them, 
again, and outside the palace gate, are ossembledjoflScers of the lower ranks, 
who there perform their prostrations. It is not considered necessary for 
them to see the Emperor ; it is enough to know that he is on the throne, 
and this fact the strains of the louder music heard in the distance 
announce to them. On this occasion the Marquis Tseng, who has 
become so well known and esteemed in Europe for his ability and 
diplomatic success, was placed high among the near and the favoured. 
To render the new Emperor’s title valid in all respects, all was done that 
could be done at the time when he was selected. When it was felt that 
the late Emperor^s illness was beyond cure the Grand Council was called. 
This consists of princes, nobles, and the chief members of the Government. 
Four sons of Taukwang and uncles of the last Emperor were present. 
Eight hereditary princes, whose titles were given to their forefathers 250 
years ago, at the conquest, for their services as generals and councillors, 
were all there. So also were several of the second and third ^ass of 
princes, with the Cabinet and the heads of the six Boards. Though the 
majority were Manchoos, a not inconsiderable number, and these very 
ijfluential persons, were Chinese. The question of the succession was 
considered in all its bearings. The Emperor was too ill to make a will, 
but a will might be made for him, and it might be read to him and his 
consent obtained. This was done. The Empress-dowager named Tsai- 
tien, son of the seventh prince, her younger sister^s first-bom. The 
dying Emperor is said to have given his consent. The document fixing 
the succession, approved by the Emperor, bat not written with the 
vermilion pencil, was read to the Council. All the members of the 
Council signed a document by which they signified their recognition of 
the neW‘ Emperor. When this had beer done the ninth prince went in 
his chair to bring his little nephew, wjiich he did, carrying him upon his 
knee. The Emperor will not now be able to recollect what took place 
that night, for he was but three years and a half old. It was a very 
cold night in January. His father^s residence was in the soath-west of 
the Tartar city, fully two miles and a half from the palace. It was late 
at night. The little fellow would be warmly wrapped in sables, the 
favourite winter attire of the rich Manchoos in Peking. He was 
conveyed by the mnth prince because he is younger than the seventh 
prince, and for some inscrutable reason was on that account admissible 
at the seventh princess residence when the elder brothers, the ninth and 
sixth princes, would not have been. He was taken at once . to the 
imperial apartments known as the Yang-bsin-tien (the Hall for Nourish- 
ing the Heart), where the two dowager Eui presses were in waiting to 
receive him. There he has been over since, occupying the same 
apartments in which seven emperors before* him have resided since the 
beginning of the dynasty.* 

China has not the law of hereditary right to settle the successi.*n. 
The Government is despotic, and the Emperor can choose his own suc- 
cessor y but on the whole it is the eldest son who usually succeeds his 
father. The Emperor is an absolute ruler, and cannot be controlled ; 
but should the best and most capable prince be chosen, and he not he 

* His imperial D:^e is Kwang-li^. 



at the same time the eldest^ no one need complain that the hereditary 
principle has not been adhered to. The public welfare needs wise and 
able Sovereigns, and the dying monarch may make a better choice than 
if he were obliged by law to take the eldest. The monarch, tbo, in 
China should in his will appoint a regency. If there bb^ a regency of 
high functionaries, the Empress need not be regent; but if such a 
regency be not appointed, the Empress will become regent. In the case 
of the Emperor Kanghi, who came to the throne in 1662, there was a 
regency of four; in the case of Kwang-hsii^the two Empresses were 
regents. When the father is succeeded by his eldest son, that son offers 
the sacrifices twice a year to his manes^ for the rule is that the eldest 
son is the most suitable person to do this. 'Should the successor to the 
throne be a nephew, he ought to be adopted as a son by his uncle. 
This law of adoption views the empire as an inheritance, and the 
Chinese law resembles that of the Romans in this respect. 

A pathetic tragedy happened at the funeral of the last Emperor in 
connection with the principle of succession to the empire by adoption. 
An officer, Woo-koo-too, committed suicide because the succession had 
not been settled to his mind by the Empress and the Grand Council. 
He thought that the Emperor Tung-chih was not well treated, because 
the Emperor Kwang-hsii is a cousin and not a nephew. He reasoned in 
this way t if the Emperor Kwang-hsii marry and have a direct heir, 
that heir will succeed him^nd perform the sacrifices to him; thug the 
Emperor Tung-chih will be left without a lineal successor. To remedy 
this fatal flaw in the dynastic succession the Emperor Kwang-hsii 
should, when his son becomes old enough, appoint him the adopted 
son of Emperor Tung-chih, and resign to him the throne. The Court 
did not, and would not, consent to this view, as he was aware ; nor 
would the Empress see why the new Emperor should be hound to resign 
when he grew up, by an edict which Woo-koo-teo thought she ought to 
issue. He therefore committed suicide, leaving a document stating his 
views. This document was found near his body, and shown to the 
Empress. In the decree issued on the occasion, while sympathy was 
shown for the loyal feeling of the unfortunate officer, his view was not 
accepted, because the young Emperor must be left to decide when the 
fitting time shall arrive what steps should be taken to ensure the due 
performance of sacrificial rites to his predecessor on the throne. 

An incident like this, taking place seven or eight years ago, shows the 
genuine loyalty of the Chinese officials, the result of the loyal adher- 
ence by the Manchoo Sovereigns to the system of examinations, and 
of the honours distributed yearly to successful candidates. Tne 
Manchoos, when they conquered the country, continued the system of 
the Ming dynasty which they found prevailing, and by a wise inter- 
mixture of Chinese and Manchoos in the chief offices of the Government 
succeeded in inducing the l^erati to accept with cordiality the rule of a 
foreign race. Each of the six Boards, whether of Works, Revenue, 
Ceremonies, Civil Office, Military Establishments, Criminal Law, has a 
Manchoo and a Chinese president, and two Manchoo and Chinese Vice- 
presidents. The offices of importance through the country are filled 
f requently by Manchoos, but usually by Chinese. The ancient principle in 
selecting officers is to take those who are ‘‘ virtuous and prudent.” The 
system of ezaminatiofis is adopted as a method for discovering what men 



bear this character. The promotioa of education is a secondary aim ; the 
supply of competent officers is the primary intention. This works well 
for enlisting the people on the side of the existing imperial regime. The 
officials are connected with the prefectures thlbugh the whole empire ; 
the ramifications of their family relationships reach to every part, near 
or distant. The sympathies of the people are therefore everywhere with 
the Government. Those who do not obtain office with its emoluments 
obtain some amount of honour and influence through the literary degree 
they have obtained, or sorue official title bestowed on them as a reward 
for services rendered. The Government has titles not only for the able and 
scholarly, but for all military accomplishments — for the rich and the suc- 
cessful in every branch of life. Those who can shoot well at a target are 
made Bachelors. Masters, and Doctors, just as those who can write a 
good essay or improvise a poem. The natural patriotism of the people 
is directed therefore towards *the existing Government, because aU are 
looking to it, for themselves or for their relatives, with the ardent 
expectation that at the next scattering of honours and promotions some 
will fall to their share. 

The boundary-line of Chinese territory, across which the sons of Han 
look at Bussia, is of immense length, in all more than four thousand 
English miles. This boundary-line begins at Possiet, on the Manchurian 
east coast, north of Corea. It consists chiefly of rivers for two thousand 
miles, and for the remaining two thousand, of mountain chains. The river 
boundary is easily fixed and as e^iiy violated. Russia is more likely to 
cross the river boundaries than those which consist of lofty mountain 
chains. All along these lines China is busy strengthening her position. 
By the last Gazettes^ which contained a report of the defence expenditure 
of the three eastern provinces stretching from the Amour River to the 
Newchwang, Port Arthur, and Corea, it appears that it is under the 
new Naval Board, and that £210,000 sterling per annum is the total 
outlay. For tins sum about ^,000^ men, drilled in foreign fashion, 
are maintained in each of the three provinces. They have sixty Krupp 
gl^DS under their charge, twenty in each province. In future a million 
taels will be required annually for this item — that is about «P250. 000. 
The necessary quarter of a million for frontier defence in the Manchurian 
provinces will, for the present at least, be supplied from the foreign 
customs revenue. A change is being made in the administration, of the 
three Manchurian provinces. The Chinese emigrant farm-workers, 
attracted by the fertility of the soil, have increased so much that the 
normal civil system 6f China proper is in course of rapid estabUshment 
there. Each military governor is now required to discharge the duties 
of the corresponding civil office. Under him are a certain number 
of magistrates^ who control prefectures and arrondissenients. It is easy 
to foresee that the old military sj stem of Manchuria and Mongolia will 
be greatly modified, and almost replaced, by a System whose Imaiu features 
are the use of foreign drill and European cannon, and a regular expendi- 
ture for frontier defence from the receipts of the foreigir customs. 

In Chinese Turkestan similar changes have taken place. Surrounded 
on three sides by mountains, this region is protected from foreign invasion 
by difficulties like those which opposed themselves to Hannibal and 
Napoleon when they inarched across the Alps into Italy. This renders 
the task of defence easier. Here also the civil administration of China 



proper bas been introdnoed, of which a tax on agriculture is the basis. 
The grass land of Mongolia is here exchanged in many places for fertile 
gardens and cornfields. The aim of the Government is to make all the 
outlying provinces as mdbh like China as possible. As emigrants press 
in year by year^ the population increases, till the fitting moment has 
arrived for the establishment of the civil and military examinations, and 
this completes the transformation of agricultural Tartary to the Chinese 
type. An admirable method of cheapening military expenditure is that 
of military colonies. Soldiers cultivate the soil as part of their duties ; 
the receipts and expenditure of military farming districts are a part of 
the official accounts. By this system lands that once lay waste 
are brought under cultivation, and the soldier maintains the in- 
dustrious habits of his youth, while there is a force ready for immediate 
action should there be either a rebellion or a foreign invasion. The 
criminal administration is made to dovetailVith this official colonization. 
Criminals sentenced to transportation are conveyed to some locality 
where waste land is capable of cultivation. Their wives and children 
accompany them. They have land, grain, and a cow lent to them, and 
wfien the crops are gathered they account for these loans, and pay what 
is demanded. The Government allows their families to accompany them 
in their distant exile, that they may not run away, and is thus able to 
prevent their either escaping the full term of their penalty or cheating 
the Government of the autumn dues. This system of military colonies 
dates from before the Christian era, v!|j;ihn the Chinese first conquered 

A great impulse has been given to emigration from North China to 
the fertile lands iiorth-e£(st and north and north-west of the Great 
Wall by the great famine of 1876, and by the rebellions of the last 
thirty years. The floods of the Yellow River have also driven multitudes 
to seek a peaceful home in the rich valleys of the north. They can be 
reached in a few days by pedestrians walking with packs on their backs 
in groups of three, five, or more. After a few months, having earned 
something in a land of plenty, the emigrants return to remove th^r 
families to the new home in the wilderness. This work of colonizing the 
extensive tracts of fertile land which exist beyond the Great Wall must 
go on increasingso long as peace shall continue. Naturally the policy of 
China is definitely expansive in this respect. The Government fosters 
emigration, and loses no time in appointing govoi'nors to new cities 
and provinces. For a time the colonies are under military law. Civil 
law follows, with the system of literrtfy degrees anh official distinctions. 
The Marquis Tseng says, in the Asiatic Quarterly Review iov January^ 
that "in Manchuria, Mongolia, and Chinese Turkestan there are im- 
mense tracts of country which have never felt the touch of the husband- 
man.” It is just in these tracts into which the surplus population of 
Cbina^s northern province^ is now pressing so rapidly that the Govern- 
ment is fast completing the change from military to civil administration. 
Thus China is positively becoming stronger in her possessions in Tartary 
by their growing population and assimilation to her provinces al*home. 
This is a set-ofi* to famines and war, and if the Government is successful 
in preserving internal peace, the northern provinces will recover after a 
few years the old figures at which they stood in the population lists. 
The Quickness with which the population returns rise and fall is a 



striking fact in Chinese history. However great their losses may be, 
the Chinese are morally certain to recoup them in a very few decades, on 
account of the salubrity of the country and the self-maintaining physique 
of the race. The eighteen provinces became twenty-one, if we include 
Manchuria, where the Chinese are now the largest element of the 
population. The new large Turkish province will make the number 
twenty- two, and some think Corea will soon become a twenty-third 

This brings us to the present attitude of China in regard to Corea 
and Japan. Corea was ilicorporated into the empire in the second 
century before Christ, and again in the seventh century. The Coreans 
speak a language half of which is their own and half Chinese, The 
same is true of the Japanese. Both nations long ago adopted* the 
Chinese educational system. The Corean population includes, like that 
of Tung-king, a very large Chinese element, the residuum from early 
emigration. But the grammar of the native tongue in Corea and in 
Japan has kept its place ; while the vocabulary of Chinese civilization in 
all its fulness, with the printers, painters, umbrella- makers, silk-weavers, 
tea cultivators, lacquer-makers, junk-builders, wine and toy manu- 
facturers, as well as the books and mechanical implements of China, 
have made the social economy of those countries what they now are. 
Corea is legally subordinate to China; her king is a vassal of the 
Manchoo dynasty, and he and his queen receive their investiture from 
China* Ja])an has taken Loochoo, once a Chinese vassal State. France 
has taken Tung-king, another vassal State. England has taken Burmah, 
and will send the decennial embassy to keep up an old form ; but China 
will retain no power there. Only Corea remains. Geographically, 
Corea ought to belong to China, if China were able to keep it. But 
China has enough to do in taking care of her own coast-line. It may 
he questioned if she would be acting wisely in assuming a new responsi- 
bility, involving a long additional coast-line, with some six harbours to 
protect. But favours China! Corea fears and respects her; 
and history and near neighbourhood have linked the lesser and greater 
nationalities together from time immemorial. As to Corea herself, she 
has no power to say yes or no. She is a ball tossed between rival players, 
and is helpless for attack or defence. But her Iiope ought to be 
directed to Western civilization. It is not China that can do Corea 
mpeh good. She h 4 d better be a neutral State, and facilities ought to 
be afforded to Europeans to work her coal, copper, and iron deposits, 
which arc very abundant, with Western capital and appliances. Corea 
could then be brought into a flourishing condition. The great coal 
deposits of North China are continued under the Peking plain through 
Corea into Japan, and this fact ensures Corea's future prosperity. 

The customs department in Corea is now made a branch of that of 
China. This shows that the absorption of Corea by China is not 
unlikely, for it multiplies the links wiiich connect the two countries. 
The amount of revenue derived from the foreign customs in Corep 
during nine months of last year was 1110,000 dollars. Subtracting the 
cost of the collecting service, the Corean Government would receive 
three-fourths of this sum. At Seoul, considering the unquestioned 
poverty of the country, this sum will not be considered small. During 
ihe same period the number of Japanese passengers arriving in Corea 

VOL. LII. L • ^ 



by steamer was greater by 400 than the number of those who left ; 
showing that about 500 Japanese are at present each year taking up their 
abode in Corea to gain a livelihood. Very few Chinese go there, and 
it may be concluded from present signs that the trade of Japan with 
Corea will steadily increase, while the progress of maritime trade 
between China and Corea will be slow. There is, however, an old* 
established land trade between Corea and Peking, and with the 
Manchurian cities on the route, v/hich may account in part for the small 
amount of Chinese trade at the newly opened ports of Corea. China 
receives an annual embassy from Corea, and traders accompany the 
mission. She also gives them her almanac, and on the accession of a 
new king or queen sends an embassy to invest them with their titles. 

At present Corea is exporting gold to Japan at the rate of nearly a 
million dollars’ worth in a year. To China by land she exports a very 
good stout paper made of bark, which bears the same reliitiou to 
Chinese paper which stout grey shirtings do to thin calico. She also 
exports ginseng and other medicines, native calicoes and miscellaneous 
articles. Her staples at the open ports are bones, cow-hides, and beans. 
The foreign articles her people like best are grey shirtings, lawns, 
muslins, and kerosene oil. A new policy needs to be inaugurated iii 
Corea which would allow mines to be worked. It will then become 
possible for her to export the metals and coal wliich are now hidden 
beneath her soil, the source of riches in the future. 

China is now happily at peace wfth Japan, after some months of 
troublesome negotiations arising out of the painful event of last year at 
Nagasaki, when lives were lost in a quarrel between Japanese and a 
party from a Chinese ship of war on shore at that place. China has lost 
Loochoo, her most distant depeiidencj'', through the action of the 
Japanese in taking possession of that archipelago without leave. But 
she has learned to feel that it is better to allow Japan, as matters stand, 
to retain that insignificant kingdpm. The fear of war on account of the 
Japanese invasion of Formosa was averted by the mediation of the 
former British Minister to China, Sir Thomas AVade. An indemnity 
paid by China of half a million dollars secured peace. These two Powers 
were glad not to be obliged to fight longer, and this is a good omen. 
Only in Corea are these nationalities likely to come into collision, and 
there the presence of the various foreign representatives will tend to 
maintain harmony. China stands always in need of Japanese copj^r, 
lacquer-ware, coal, vegetables, wax, and sea- weed. At Chinese ports the 
imports from Japan are just at present, as com|)ared with exports to 
Japan, as ten to three in value. The Japanese do not need silk or tea, 
and they receive gold and silver instead. The whole foreign trade of 
China is valued at 150,000,000 taels. Out of this amount seven millions 
is the value of Japanese trade, and twelve millions that of the United 
States. The Japanese trikle has increased a million in eight years. It 
is with Japan as with India. China produces little that either of these 
pountries wants. All three countries produce rice and wheat. The 
Japanese would be better for more wheat, for they have not the physical 
endurance of the Cliinese. If they imported wheat from China, it would 
be well for them ; as also mutton, to take the place of fish. Sheep will 
not live in Japan, but the Japanese might use Chinese mutton. This would 
tend to equalize trade and give more stability to their physical constitu- 



tion. Before tlie treaties the Japanese trade with China was a mere 
shadow. Three centuries ag^o the Japanese came year by year in pirate 
fleets to ravage the coast of China. Now {here is an increasing trade 
betfreen the countries, and very satisfactory diplomatic intercourse at 
Tokio and Peking ; commercial intercourse is regulated at the ports by 
the presence of consuls. The general effect of all this is decidedly in 
favour of peace. Every year makes the quiet of the future more 
assured. China and Japan are learning to live by treaties and the 
rules of international law,^jjList as if they were Western States. Japan 
especially benefits by foreign trade, because she will have nothing to do 
with opium. As an island empire should do, she increases annually her 
ships and her trade. In tonnage dues last year at Chinese ports she 
paid more than any country except Germany, America, and England. 
In the amount of duties on her cargoes, England, France, and Germany 
alone surpassed her, and she paid more than Bussia or the United States. 
Considering that Japan does not require Chinese tea, whereas all these great 
powers need immense quantities of it, this fact shows a healthy condition 
in Japanese trade. Besides this, Christian missions in China and Japan 
show steady progress, and that progress has been increasingly rapid of 
late years. There is good reason, then, to expect the maintenance of 
peace, and increasing commercial prosperity , in both empires, for the 
energies of the people are finding new channels of action, and just in 
proportion to the enlarged scope for their activities will be the diminu- 
tion of insurrectionary and lawless tendencies of every kind. 

Chilians position in regard to the western powers since 184^ is an 
entirely new departure in her history. Her Ministers sit with the diplo- 
matists of Europe in the same council chambers, as equals with equals. 
This ehjmge must have a vast influence on her in coming times. She is 
too strong not to be respected. Her population is too great and her 
civilization too advanced to admit of her being subdued by an invading 
aimy: at least, no one at present thinking of attempting it, and 
each year sees China growing stronger ; so that the other Powers, whether 
in Asia or farther away, will be still less likely to attempt it at any 
future time. It is a great advantage to her that she has a literally 
inexhaustible supply of soldiers, and that, to meet the expense of 
foreign drill, she has nearly five million pounds sterling, which the 
foreign trade will now yield under the new arrangements. This includes 
the collection by the foreign custom-houses of the tax now agreed on 
— viz., £15 per cwt., or more exactly eighty taels per picul — on foreign 
opium. This sum, collected for her by the foreign customs service 
on the fringe of her empire, helps her to defend that fringe from 
the attacks of a foreign foe. But she has treaties wiiJi all the Powers 
whose ships come to her shores. She has accepted international 
law as it has been elaborated by 'VV ester ii jurists. So far as documents 
and signatures can tie and fetter a nation, tJhina is now as much tied 
and fettered as any other Power ; and, as Mr. Burlinghame said nearly 
twenty years ago, she has really joined the comity of nations At tli^t 
time fehina chose an eloquent American to be her mouthpiece, and 
he resigned his post as the United States Minister to China in order to 
serve her. Now she has her own diplomatist, the Marquis Tseng, who 
has, like Mr. Burlinghame, also adopted a flowery style when laying his 
views before the European public. Mr. Burlinghame said nothing of 




China’s power, but the Marquis Tseng thinks it well to make a point of 
this^ while he seeks to show, that she will not make use of hej power to 
conquer the territory of her neighbours. That is to say, she has con- 
sented to be tied by treaties, and she will not break loose with unexpected 
violence from the obligations she has accepted. Every new treaty 
between China and a foreign Power gives new evidence that China is 
becoming accustomed to live in the new atmosphere of foreign law with 
which she is now surrounded. Steam and the telegraph have made 
Peking and Shanghai nearer to London thau.Cairo and Alexandria were 
in the days of our grandfathers. China, therefore, instead of being, as 
then, a sort of unknown Neptune in the solar system of politics, has 
become a known factor, whose powers can be estimated, whose opinions 
can be foreseen, and whose sympathy can be secured by fair dealing and 
wise judgment. 

Towards France, if she bears any malice, she has discreetly concealed 
it, and French residents in Clnna were during the short war of 1885 
in no way disturbed. The sale by the Pope of the Peking Cathedral 
to the Chinese Government, with the consent of France, has greatly 
pleased the Court ; and the French clergy in Peking are in the possession 
of high honours, conferred most cheerfully by the Chinese. Tung-king 
has in earlier times been *for centuries together a part of China, and 
has been repeatedly divided into prefectures and arrondissemeiits. 
China really had always a fancy for %Tang-king. In an atlas printed 
at Hankow in the year 1863 under the direction of the patriotic 
governor Hoo-linyi, the kingdom of Tung-king is carefully included 
as a part of the empire, and is in the same category with the islands of 
Formosa and Hainan. This atlas was published in the last year of the 
Taiping rebellion, and it shows that this governor never lost heart even 
in dark times, and that while he was planning the restoration of peace 
and order along the Yang-tze river, he was also hoping to see the glory 
of the Han dynasty of eighteen hundred years ago restored in the 
annexation of Tung-king. Ert each war extinguislies the hopes of 
some enthusiasts, and the war with France has drawn a line which 
checks the aspirations of the patriotic who desired to see China^s 
boundaries extending on the south. The settlement with France is 
made much more satisfactory and secure by the cession of the cathedral. 
This restoration of an emperor’s gift need never have been made if, 
twenty years ago, when it \vas rebuilt after a fire, its two lowers hifd 
not been raised too high. This was a cause of irritation to the 
imperial family duiing all the intervening years. As they walked in 
the palace grounds or were rowed in boats on the lake, they seemed to 
be in the shadow of demon forms. Two lofty symmetrical towers sur- 
mounting a church, whose pointed arches periodically re-echo the 
mellifluous sounds of organ music and the solemn chant of worship, 
should rather be viewed as*a lovely ornament; but the imperial family 
and the high rnnndarinate of China saw in them the symbols of intru- 
sion and dangerous proximity. The Eastern imagination finds evil 
portents anywhere; and France, with her soldiers and her delicate 
sensitiveness, was always in these towers looking down upon them from 
a position of superiority. This feeling has now been removed, and the 
church, it is thought, will remain an architectural ornament only to the 
palace grounds. The new cathedral will be half a mile away, and the 



height, which it may not exceed, is limited expressly in the Empresses 
edict announcing the cession of the cathedral. The Court of Peking 
breathed freely afte#long suspense, when at last the long negotiations 
with Prance, the Pope, and ithe clergy were happily concluded. The 
question of the French missions remains, and it cannot be determined 
previously by diplomacy, because the time, place, and circumstances of 
anti-foreign riots cannot be foreseen. The Government finds it hard 
to control popular frenzy arising from ignorance and superstition and 
a blind hatred of everything not Chinese. Lately at Chung-king the 
riot directed its fury against French, English, and American subjects 
without discrimination. The same thing has happened frequently 
before. One riot brings the Ministers of three or four countries at 
once with their complaints to the doors of the Yamen for Foreign Affairs. 
That Board has a hard time on such Occasions. Indemnities are 
promised. Responsibility is recognised. The stupid violence of the 
people is admitted freely. But while all this has been done, what is 
most regrettable is that the same thing may occur again at any time in 
some new locality which before was tranquil. China has legislation 
against seditious gatherings and religious sects meeting in secret. 
Death and banishment are freely dealt out to offenders against the 
laws proscribing certain objectionable sects ; but there is no Riot Act, 
and it is not made the duty by law of the local magistrates or citizens 
to help in suppressing the proceedings of a mob attacking foreign 
residents. Hence a popular rising against foreigners and their property 
rages on unrestrained by the executive. The sympathy of the richer 
classes is more wdth the mob than with the foreigners. The mischief 
comes to a head, and bursts upon a few helpless victims, and the country 
loses the amount of the indemnity because the local executive is power- 
less. In the Chinese Statute-book there ought to be a section defining 
the culpability and punishment of local officers when neglecting to give 
the protection needed by foreigners in these emergencies, and guaranteed 
to them by the treaties. 

The missionary enterprises of Catholics and Protestants in China 
share, and ought to share, like other peaceable activities of man in 
society, in the protection of the law. Chinese law has now been 
enlarged by the recognition, on the part of the Chinese Government, of 
those parts of the European international law which guard commerce 
and religion from unjfist hindrance and interference. 

If missionaries had* not been already at work in China when the 
treaties were made, the interests o^ merchants only would have been 
consulted ; but happily it is now a fact, from which diplomacy cannot 
on either side retreat, that foreign residents for teaching religion and 
science, and travellers seeking to inc»’ease human knowledge, are now all 
of them under the aegis of the treaties. AU '^lie treaty Powers having 
any considerable amount of trade with China have also missionaries in 
that country, in whose protection their accredited representatives at the 
Chinese Court are naturally interested. It is well for China, a Power* 
embracing many religions and nationalities, that the treaties have been 
made on a liberal basis, and .that they engage the Chinese Government 
to respect the religious opinions of native Cliristians. ^ Missionary 
operations it is impossible to repress, and the popular ignorance of 
China shows the paramount need of teaching ^e simple truths of 



science in tliat country. This is done to no small extent in the schools 
and publications of the missions. In this way China is greatly benefited, 
and in course of time, as the spread of kuowledge#loosens the hold of 
superstition on the people, they will, it is |o be hoped, be cured of this 
tendency to burn and destroy on a sudden impulse. The task of govern- 
ing them will then become easier, and the advantage accruing to the 
governing classes by the operations of the missionary societies will bo 
recognized, just as fully as it is at the present time in India, in the 
official statements of many public men who ,have had a wide knowledge 
of the effects of Christian missions in educating and elevating public 
opinion in that peninsula. 

The feeling of China towards England has visibly improved. After 
all the mischief done by opium to China, her statesmen have none the 
less been quick to perceive that friendly relations with England should 
be cultivated. The Emperor Taou-kwang tried to put down the habit 
of opium-smoking by law, and failed, on account of the wretched love of 
the opium-smoker for the gratification, of which he suffers the pernicious 
effects. The former Minister to England, Kwo-sung-tau, and the lately 
returned Minister, Tseng-ki-tseh, sent home detailed and sympathetic 
reports of England, which were printed and widely read. England's 
consent to a collection of a high duty on opium, alter long hesitation, 
was very pleasing to the Government. The habit of opium-smoking it 
was impossible to repress by law, and^in the circumstances it w^is con- 
sidered better to admit Indian opium at a high duty than at a low 
one. The Government has made no serious and persistent eflbrt to 
stamp out the native growth pf the poppy, nor does it show at present 
any approach to a new policy in tliat respect. Tlie cure of opium- 
smoking must be effected now by moral means. TJjc opium revenue 
the Chinese Government value too much to abandon. They think 
it necessary for coast defence, and so pressing is this oljcct that 
they are now planning railways as a source of revenue to meet the 
same need. Sixty per cent, from the receipts of railways, when made, is 
talked about as a convenient addition to the sum required for national 
defence, military and naval. The people themselves have societies the 
members of which avoid opium-smoking, tobacco-smoking, spirits and 
wine, just as they have also vegetarian societies. To this native propa- 
ganda are to be added the efforts of Christian missionaries to promote the 
abandonment of opium-smoking. The spread of a* moral crusade against 
opium-smoking will be in proportion to the extension of the mission, 
and the Government will nccessarify regard the Christian missionary as 
a helper in promoting social morality. The Government is busily 
engaged with other things, hut the Lime must come when they will 
attend to this matter of native-grown opium. The opium question is 
perhaps becoming less a political question than a moral one. The barm 
done by opiurn-sraoking in Soutli Burmah while under British rule is 
opening the eyes of Indian statesmen to the necessity of restricting the 
•supply of this dangerous commodity, and thus they are likely to aporeciate 
better the views held by all the Chinese, high and low, who d^ire the 
welfare of their lellow-meu and their country. The opium required by 
China from foreign countries has been during the last five years about 
65,000 piculs annually, reaching the portentous amount of 8,700,000 lbs* 
^bere are no present signs of decided diminution of the import through 



tlie enormous spread of the native production, which is now estimated to 
be three or four times as much in quantity as the foreign article. 

The position of England in the trade with China is a security for the 
continuance of friendly relations between the two countries. The trade 
with China of Great Britain and Hongkong reached in 1885 a total of 
about a hundred million taels, or £26,000,000 ; while the trade of China 
with all the rest of the world was about half that amount. One million 
piculs of tea went from China to Great Britain, and another million to the 
rest of the world. Out of twenty-three thousand entrances of ships and 
steamers into Chinese ports, thirteen thousand were British. China 
receives, therefore, from Great Britain more than half of the revenue 
derived from her foreign customs establishment. If the revenue be 
assumed to be levied evenly on the trade, China receives from Great 
Britain annually more than two millions sterling. 

This amount of revenue derived by China from British trade has 
operated, and must continue to operate, in promoting friendliness towards 
England on the part of the Chinese Government. Suppose, for example, 
that the course of action indicated by the Morquis Tseng in “ The 
Sleep and the Awakening, respecting the unfairness of the treaties in 
some points, were to be adopted by the Chinese Government, when the 
time comes for a revision of the treaty with Great Britain, great diflScul- 
ties would spring up. Great Britain would be unwilling to place 
Englisl|men at the mercy of Chinese courts of justice, where, in the 
absence of evidence sufficient to convict an accused man, he is beaten to 
force confession. China must first reform her criminal procedure, 
liailways have taken a long lime, and will still require some time. before 
they are constructed. The reformation of the criminal procedure 
will rr quire a longer time yet. So also it would not be easy to abandon 
the principle of concessions of land for foreign settlements at Shanghai 
and other ports. The civilized European must have a civilized house 
and garden. Settlements like Shangivii must have their own police to 
patrol the streets and maintain order. Will the Chinese be prepared 
at the decennial revision of the British treaty to give municipal privileges, 
to engage judges trained in European law to try causes, and take over the 
duties and responsibilities of the Supreme Court of China and Japan ? 
The answer is self-evident. They will not dream of doing so. It must 
be many years before they will be able to conduct judicial proceedings 
where the accused bel(Tng to any of the treaty Powers. Consequent!)' the 
treaties must in these two points, extra- territoriality and concessions of 
land for mercantile settlements at open ports, remain unchanged. This 
is sufficiently obvious, and there is no likelihood that the Marquis Tseng, 
in saying these things, was acting in pursuance of initructions. * He 
wishes his country and its government and people to be just, civilized, 
powerful, and free. He would like China to have incorruptible judges, 
human laws, and improved education. 11c claims for tliis ideal China an 
abstract right to the same privileges which the highly civilizivl powers 
of the West award to each other. On these points he thinks as a* 
Westerh man, and adopts an energy of phrase which is in iket more 
Occidental than seems quite befitting to a son of Han. 

The movement of China at the present time is a slow assimilation to the 
European type. She has always studied, politics, and she has had political 
writers from the time of Confucius till now. Her high ethical school of 



conservatism is opposed to free trade, and in favour of exclusiveness and 
isolation. The system of Confucius tends in this direction. She has also 
had her free trade school, the levelling of classes, and the development of 
international politics hy the division of her territory into smaller States. 
She is now retreating from the attitude of exclusiveness and the affectation 
of superiority, and is adopting ex animo the language and attitude of 
a Western Power. Her sentiments are becoming liberal, and her laws 
and institutions are in a fair way to be ameliorated. China, of all 
Asiatic countries, is the only one except Japan that has made a study 
of politics. Japan solved her great problem a quarter of a century ago, 
and was led to do so by foreign trade. The impact of foreign commerce 
on her shores communicated a thrill which stirred her to reflection, and 
in a very short time her iil*ational system of two centres and dual 
politics was exchanged for mono-centric government. The phrase, ^^the 
sleep and the awakening/'" may then be better applied to Japan than to 
China. Eut China is awakening too. Tlie process is slower, however, 
and she lacks the youthful and impressive vigour of her island neighbour. 

The advantage of the Chinese which enables tliem to maintain their 
autonomy, which the Hindoos have not been able to do, is not only 
homogeneousness of race, but the habit of liistorical study and political 
thinking, which are foreigA to the Hindoo mind. Her experienced 
councillors can therefore adapt themselves to the situation at the crisis 
brought on hy the expansion of European trade. Are the Europeans 
traders? She herself is also devotedly fond of trading. Have they 
laws which control trade? So has she, and she has been accustomed lor 
two thousand years to frame regulations, as they were required, for the 
control of such matters. At first when foreign traders came slic made 
some absurd rules, the time for which has gone by, and she has had 
the wisdom to adopt foreign ideas and improve her theories and lu r 

There can be no two opinions ^is to the main ol>jects of contemporary 
Chinese politics. China is determined lo maintain her autonomic posi- 
tion and her pre.stige by tlie untold rich(?s of her mines and the inex- 
haustible reserve of men who can be trained lo light. She is pursuing 
tliis course, as the Marquis says, with peaceful iulentions. She cannot 
stop the foreign trade, and she would not do so if ^he could, because of 
the money it yields to increase her revenue. She will not part with the 
useful funds which helj) her to strengthen her l’»rts and to drill her 
forces. The sum she gains is not in itself so verj^^ large, but it i.s to her 
at present indispensable, and all h(A' hope is now in foreign drill, in 
railways, in mines, to be worked in foreign ways ; in science, to be 
studied with the help of foreign professors. Slie i.s in fact entering on 
the adoption of a foreign r/ylme in these respeet.s just as certainly as 
Japan, but slie takes a longer time to make the change. 

A Elsidext in Peking. 


[ OV\ 


v':?;- i 

lY ^ 



S peeches, lectures, pamphlets, articles, leaflets relating to Home 
Rule and Laud Law in Ireland have been showered on the 
public as thick (and perhaps as dry — ahslt omen) as autumnal 
leaves* that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa^^ ; yet it may be doubted 
whether the public has not been perplexed rather than instructed by 
this abundance — not knowing what to select or how to distinguish 
between many conflicting propositions. The object of the following 
pages is to inquire into the nature of governments in general, with 
a view of ascertaining the value, so to speak, of the various forms of 
ties by which communities of incn are compacted into nations ; and 
thus, having determined, so far as is possible by theory and by example, 
the strength of the diverse social structures which build up empires 
and nations, to apply the principles thus deduced to the case of 
Ireland, and show how far the plans put forward by the supporters of 
Home Rule are really calculated to excite alarm, or are of such a 
character as to deservedly brand the advocates of the measure with 
the opprobrium of being anarchists, revolutionists, separatists ; or, in 
short of being men in any way hdlding a faith repugnant to the true 
principles of the British Constitution. 

The inquiry proposed necessarily involves a description of the 
various forms of governnlfent w hich have been proposed for 
Ireland, and the reader may judge for himself whether their merits 
and demerits have been truly set forth. At all events, it is 
hoped th&t an endeavour to supply materials for a dispassionate, 
view the whole of the Irish situation may assist both 

opponents and supporters of Home Rule to take a more charitable 
view of the motives by which each party is actuated, and the condi- 
tions under which it works, and perhaps to arrive at the conclusion that 

VOL. Lii. M • V 




the differences pompeting for acceptance 

are not uiifrequcntly <l ^^jM^^ ^S ^^^iil|tapcej but of form, arising 
from a desire in their own way^ rather than 

objections resting on g]M|^^l||j^||EK|m^ grounds^ and involving, if 
they are to be set aside^^ll^lili^^onment of principles binding on 
reason and the conscience. 

Before analysing the materials of which a nation is composed, we 
must first determine what constj^tutes a natron. Happily, little difficulty 
arises in arriving at a conclusion on this question. A nation is a 
political society which possesses imperial or national powers ; that 
is to say, the powers of making peace and war, maintaining fleets and 
armies, and regulating commerce with foreign nations. 

A community possessing these powers, be it large or be it small, 
is a nation or a separate entity amongst the peoples of the world. It 
owns no superior, but possesses and exercises all powers of govern- 
ment by itself and for itself. The possession of imperial or national 
powers indicates nothing more than the separate existence of a com- 
munity. Russia, the German Empire, the British Empire, the 
United States, France, arc alike independent nations, possessing, in 
reference to ‘Other political communities, the common attribute of 
independent sovereignty. 

Passing from imperial to local powers, we shall find that the most 
material local regulations may be classified as follows : — Class 1 : 
Laws for the maintenance of peace and social order ; laws relating 
to coinage, postal service, and internal communication. This class 
may be called State Laws,” using State ” in the American sense 
of a political community subordinated to some other power. Class 2 ; 
Laws relating to land ; laws relating to education ; laws relating 
to police; laws relating to the relief of the poor; municipal and 
sanitary laws ; and so forth. This class may be named " Provincial 
Laws,” using Province ” in the sense of a division less than a State. 

These laws admit of various modes of classification, but the fore- 
going arrangement will be sufficient for our purpose. The simplest 
form of government, and probably the most absolute in the world, 
is that of Russia. Here all power, legislative, executive, and even 
judicial, is vested in the Emperor, and exercised by functionaries 
deriving their authority immediately from him. France, again, 
though a republic, is an example of a very centralized government. 
The legislati\e, executive, and judicial powers are distinct; but the 
central government, through the medium of the appointment of the 
‘local prefects, exercises a direct power throughout all the provinces 
of France ; thus making every impulse of the supreme pifwer felt 
immediately throughout the whole body of the State. It is of no 
use entering further into the nature or details of what may be called 
for distinction single " governments, or governments consisting of 



one compact political society, subject to a direct far-reaching central 
power. The problem with which we have to deal is Ireland, and 
Ireland is a component member of the most complex nation the 
world has yet known. Our inquiry, then, must be directed to an 
investigation of the structures of various composite nations, or 
nations made up of numerous political communities more or less 
differing from each other. From the examination of the nature of 
the common tie, and tkfc circumstances which caused it to be 
adopted or imposed on the component peoples, we cannot but derive 
instruction, and be furnished with materials which will enable us to 
take a wide view of the question of Home Rule, and assist us in 
judging between the various remedies proposed for the cure of 
Irish disorders. 

The nature of the ties which bind, or have bound, the principal 
composite nations of the world together may be classified as — 

1. Confederate unions. 

2. Federal unions. 

3. Imperial unions. 

A confederate union may be defined to mean an alliance between 
the governments of independent States, which agree to appoint a com- 
mon superior authority liaving power to make peace and war and to 
demand contributions of men and money from the confederate 
States. Such superior authority has no power of enforcing its 
decrees except through the medium of the governments of the con- 
stituent States ; or, in other words, in case of disobedience, by 
armed force. 

A federal union differs from a confederate union in the material 
fact that the common superior authority, instead of acting on the 
individual subjects of the constituent States through the medium of 
their respective governments, has a power, in respect of all matters 
within its jurisdiction, of enacting laws and issuing orders which are 
binding directly on the individual citizens. 

The distinguishing characteristics of an imperial union are, that it 
consists of an aggregate of communities, one of which is dominant, 
and that the component communities have been brought into asso- 
ciation, not by arrangement between themselves, but by colonization, 
cession, and by other means emanating from the resources or power 
of the dominant community. , 

The above-mentioned distinction between a Government having 
communities only for its subjects, and incapable of enforcing Its orders ^ 
by any^ther means than war, and a Government acting directly on 
individuals, must be constantly borne in mind, for in this lies the 
whole difference between a confederate and federal union ; that is 
to say, between a confederacy which, in the case of the United 
States, lasted a few short years, an^ a federa^union which, with 

M 2 . 



the same people as subjectsj has lasted nearly a century^ and has 
stood the strain of the most terrible war of modern times. 

The material features of the Cohstitution of the United States 
have been explained in a previous article.* All that is necessary to 
call to mind here is^ that the Government of the United States 
exercises a power of taxation throughout the whole Union by means 
of its own oflBcers, and enforces its decrees through the medium of 
its own Courts. A Supreme Court has also been established, which 
has power to adjudicate on the constitutionality of all laws passed 
by the Legislature of the United States, or of any State, and to 
decide on all international questions. 

Switzerland was till 1848 an example of a confederate union or 
league of semi-independent States, which, unlike other confederacies, 
had existed with partial interruptions for centuries. This unusual 
vitality is attributed by Millf to the circumstance that the con- 
federate government felt its weakness so strongly that it hardly ever 
attempted to exercise any real authority. Its present government, 
finally settled in 1874, but based on fundamental laws passed in 1848, 
is a federal tinion formed on the pattern of the American Constitution. 
It consists of a federal assembly comprising two Chambers — the 
Upper Chamber composed of forty-four members chosen by the 
twenty-two cantons, two for each canton ; the Lower consisting of 
145 members chosen by direct election at the rate of one deputy for 
every 20,000 persons. The chief executive authority is deputed to a 
federal council consisting of seven members elected for three years by 
the federal assembly, and having at their head a president and vice- 
president, who are the first magistrates of the republic. There is also 
a federal tribunal, having similar functions to those of the supreme 
court of the United States of America, consisting of nine members 
elected for six years by the federal* assembly. 

The Empire of Germany is a federal union, differing from the United 
States and Switzerland in having an hereditary emperor as its head. 
It comprises twenty-six States, who have formed an eternal union 
for the protection of the realm, and the care of the welfare of the Ger- 
man people.^^J The Xing of Prussia, under the titleof German Emperor, 
represents the empire in all its relations to foreign nations, and has 
the power of making peace and war, but if the war be more than a 
defensive war he must have the assent of the Upper House. The legis- 
lative body of the empire consists of tw'o Houses — the Upper, called 
^the Bundesrath, representing the social States in different proportions 
according to their relative importance; the lower, the Reichstag, 
elected by the voters in 397 electoral districts, which are distributed 

* ** Home lUile and Imperial Unity : CoNTEMi'oiiAuv Review, March 1887. 

+ Mill on ** Representative Government/' p. 310. 

♦ See State8ZLan*s Year Book : Switzerland and Germany. 



amongst the constituent States in unequal numbers^ regard being had 
to the population and circumstances of each State. 

The Austro-Hungarian Empire is a federal union^ differing 
alike in its origin and construction from the federal unions 
above mentioned. In the beginning Austria and Hungary were 
independent countries — ^Austria a despotism, Hungary a constitutional 
monarchy, with ancient laws and customs dating back to the founda- 
tion of the kingdom in 896. In the sixteenth century the supreme 
power in both countries — that is to say, the despotic monarchy in 
Austria and the constitutional monarcliy in Hungary — became vested 
in the same person ; as might have been anticipated, the union was not 
a happy one. If we dip into Heeren’s Political System of Europe” at 
intervals selected almost at random, the following notices will be found 
in relation to Austria and Hungary: — Between 1671 and 1700 “ politi- 
cal unity in the Austrian monarchy was to have been enforced especially 
in the principal country (Hungary), for this was regarded as the sole 
method of establishing power ; the consequence was an almost per- 
petual revolutionary state of affairs.” * Again, in the next chapter, 
commenting on the period between 1740 and 1786 : Hungary, in fact 
the cjiief, was treated like a conquered province ; subjected to the 
most oppressive commercial restraints, it \vas regarded as a colony 
from which Austria exacted what she could for her own advantage. 
The injurious consequences of this internal discord are evident.” 
Coming to modern times we find that oppression followed oppres- 
sion with sickening monotony, and that at last the determina- 
tion of Austria to stamp out the Constitution in Hungary gave 
rise to the insurrection of 18 19, vvjiich Austria suppressed with the 
assistance of liussia, and as a penalty declared the Hungarian Con- 
stitution to be forfeited, and thereupon Hungary was incorporated with 
Austria, as Ireland was incorporated with Great Britain in 1800. Both ^ 
events were the consequences of unsuccessful rebellions, but the junc- 
tion which, in the case of Hungary, was enforced by the sword, was in 
Ireland more smoothly carried into effect by corruption. Hungary, 
sullen and discontenifccd, waited fqr Austria's calamity as her oppor- 
tunity, and it came after the battle of Sadowa. Austria had just 
emerged from a fearful conflict, and Count Beust t felt that unless 
some resolute effort was made to meet the views of the constitutional 
party in Hungary, the dismemberment of the empire must be the re- 
sult. Now, what was the course he took*? Was it a tightening 
of the bonds between Austria and Hungary ? On the contrary, to 
maintain the unity of the empire he dissolved its union and restored 
to Hungary its iucient constitutional privileges. Austria and 
Hungary each had its own Parliament for local purposes. To 

* Heeren’s “ Political System of Europe,’' p. 152. 

t ^ Memoirs of Count ^ust,” voL i. Introduction, p. xliii. 



manage the imperial concerns of peace and war^ and the foreign 
relations, a controlling body^ called the Delegations^ was established^ 
consisting of 120 members, of whom half represent and are chosen 
by the Legislature of Austria^ and the other half by that of Hungary ; 
the Upper House of each country returning twenty members, and the 
Lower House forty.* Ordinarily the delegates sit and vote in two 
Chambers, but if they disagree the two branches must meet together 
and give their final vote, which is binding oa the whole empire.f 

The question arises, What is the magnetic influence which induces 
communities* of men to combine together in federal unions? Un- 
doubtedly it is the feeling of nationality ; and what is nationality ? 
Mr. Mill says,+ " a portion of mankind may be said to constitute a 
nationality if they are united among themselves by common sympathies 
which do not exist between them and any others; which make them co- 
operate with each other more willingly than other people ; desire to be 
under the same government, and desire that it should be a government 
by themselves or a portion of themselves exclusively/ He then proceeds 
to state that the feeling of nationality may have been generated by 
various causes. Sometimes it is the identity of race and descent ; com- 
munity of language and community of religion greatly contribute »to it ; 
geographical limits arc one of its causes ; but the strongest of all is 
identity of political antecedents ; the possession of a national history 
and consequent community of recollections — collective pride and 
humiliation, pleasure and regret — connected with the same incidents 
in the past. The only point to be noted further in reference to the 
foregoing federal unions, is that the same feeling of nationality 
which, in the United States, Switzerland, and the German Empire, 
produced a closer legal bond of union, in the case of Austria-Hungary 
operated to dissolve the amalgamation formed in 1819 of the two 
^States, and to produce a federal union of States in place of a single 

One conclusion seems to fellow irresistibly from any review of the 
construction of the various States above described ; that the stability of 
a nation bears no relation whatever V> the legal compactness or homo- 
geneity of its component parts. Russia and France, the most com- 
pact political societies in Europe, do not, to say the least, rest on a 
firmer basis than Germany and Switzerland, the inhabitants of which 
are subject to the obligations of a double nationality. Above all, 
no European nation, except Great Britain, can for a moment bear 
comparison with the United States in respect of the devotion of its 
people to their Constitution. 

* “Statesman* Year Book.” 

*t' The £iiij>ero:r of Austria is the head of tlie empire, v^ith the title of King in 
Hungary. Austria-llungary is treated as a federal not as an imperial union, on the 
ground that Austria was never rightfully a dominant community over Hungary. 

4: “ Representative (Government,'* p. 295. 



An imperial union^ though resembling somewhat in outward form a 
federal union, differs altogether from it both in principle and origin. 
Its essential characteristic is that one community is absolutely 
dominant while all the others are subordinate. In the case of a 
federal union independent States have agreed to resign a portion of 
their powers to a central Government for the sake of securing the 
common safety. In an imperial union the dominant or imperial 
State delegates to each constituent member of the union such a 
portion of local government as the dominant State considers the 
subordinate member entitled to, consistently with the integrity of 
the empire. The British Empire furnishes the best example of an 
imperial union now existing in the world. Her Majesty, as common 
head, is the one link which binds the empire together and connects 
with each other every constituent member. The Indian Empire and 
certain military dependencies require no further notice in these 
pages ; but a summary of our various forms of colonial government is 
required to complete our knowledge of the forms of Home Rule 
possibly applicable to Ireland. 

The colonies, in relation to their forms of government, may be 
classi&ed as follows : — 

1. Crown colonies, in which laws may be made by the Governor 
alone, or with the concurrence of a Council nominated by the 

2. Colonies possessing representative institutions, but not respon- 

sible government, in which the Crown has only a veto on legis- 
lation, but the Home Government retains the control of the 
executive. . 

3. Colonies possessing representative institutions and responsible 
government, in which the Crown has only a veto on legislation, and 
the Home Government has no control over any public oflScer except 
the Governor. 

The British Colonial Governments thus present ^an absolute 
gradation of rule beginning with absolute despotism and ending 
with almost absolute legal independence, except in so far as a 
veto on legislation and the presence of a Governor named by 
the Crown mark the dependence of the colony on the mother 

It is to be remembered, moreover, that the colonies which have 
received this complete local freedom are "the great colonies of the 
earth — nations themselves possessing territories as large or larger 
than any European State — namely, Canada, the Cape, New South 
Wales, Victoria, Queensland, South Australia, New Zealand, 
Tasmania. And this change from dependence to freedom has been 
effected with the good-will both of the mother country and the 
colony, and without it being imputed to the colonists, when desiring 



a larger measure of self-government^ that they were separatists^ 
anarchists, or revolutionists* 

Such are the general principles of colonial government, but one 
colony requires special mention, from the circumstance of its Con- 
stitution having been put forward as a model for Ireland ; this is the 
Dominion of Canada. The Government of Canada is/ in effect, a 
subordinate federal union i that is to say, it possesses a central Legis- 
lature, having the largest possible powers«of local self-government 
consistent with the supremacy of the empire, with seven inferior pro- 
vincial Governments, exercising powers greater than those of an English 
county, but not so great as those of an American State. The advan- 
tage of such a form of government is that, without weakening the 
supremacy of the empire or of the central locai power, it admits of con- 
siderable diversities being made in the details of provincial govern- 
ment, where local peculiarities and antecedents render it undesirable 
to make a more complete assimilation of the Governments of the 
various provinces. 

Materials have now been collected which will enable the reader 
to judge of the expediency or inexpediency of the course taken by 
Mr. Gladstone's Government in dealing with Ireland. Three alterna- 
tives were open to them — 

1. To let matters alone. 

2. To pass a Coercion Bill. 

3. To change the government of Ireland, and at Ihe same 

time to pass a Land Bill. 

The two last measures are combined under the head of one 
alternative, as it will be shown in, the sequel that no effective Land 
Bill can be passed without granting Home llule in Ireland. 

Now, the short answer to the first alternative is, that no party in. 
the State — Conservative, Whig, Radical, Unionist, Ilorae Ruler, 
Parnellite — thought it possible to leave things alone. That spme- 
thing must be done was universally admitted. 

The second alternative has found favour with the present Govern- 
ment, and certainly is a better cxan^ple of the triumph of hope over 
experience, than the proverbial second marriage. 

Eighty. six years have elapsed since the Union. During the 
first thirty-two years only eleven years, and during the last fifty- 
four years only two years have been free from special repressive 
legislation ; yet the agitation for repeal of the Union, and general 
discontent, are more violent in 1887 than in any one of the eighty- 
six previous years. In the name of common-sense, is there* any 
reason for supposing that the Coercion Bill of 1887 will have a 
better or more enduring effect than its numerous predecessors? 
The primd facie case is at all events in favour of the contention 
that, when so many trials of a certain i^medy had failed, it 



would be better not to try the same remedy again^ but to have 
recourse to some other medicine. What, then, was the position of 
Mr. Gladstone's Government at the close of the election of 1885 ? 
What were the considerations presented to them as supreme supervisors 
and guardians of the British Empire? They found that vast colonial 
empire tranquil and loyal beyond previous expectation — the greater 
colonies satisfied with their existing position ; the lesser expecting 
that as they grew up to nfsanhood they would be treated as men, and 
emancipated from childish restraints. The Channel Islands and the 
Isle of Man were contented with their sturdy dependent indepen- 
dence, loyal to the backbone. One member only stood aloof, 
sulky and dissatisfied, and though in law integrally united with the 
dominant community, practically was dissociated from it by forming 
within Parliament (the controlling body of the whole) a separate 
section, of which the whole aim was to fetter the action of the 
entire supreme body in order to bring to an external severance 
the practical disunion which existed between that member and 
Great Britain. This member — Ireland — as compared with other parts 
of the empire, was small and insignificant; measured against Great 
Britain^ its population was five millions to thirty-one millions, and its 
estimated capital was only one twenty-fourth part of the capital of the 
United Kingdom. Measured against Australia, its trade with Great 
Britain was almost insignificant. Its importance arose from the force 
of public opinion in Great Britain, which deemed England pledged to 
protect the party in Ireland which desired the Union to be maintained, 
and from the powder of obstructing English legislation through the 
medium of the Irish contingent, willing and ready on every occasion 
to intervene in English debates. The first step to be taken obviously 
was to find out what the great majority of Irish members wanted. 
The answer was, that they would be contented to quit the British 
Parliament on having a Parliament established on College Green, with 
full powers of Jocal government, and that they would accept on 
behalf of their country a certain fixed annual sum to be paid to the 
Imperial Exchequer, ’on condition that such sum should not be 
increased without the consent of the Irish represcTitatives. Here 
there were two great points gained without any sacrifice of principled 
Ireland could not be said to be taxed without representation when 
her representatives agreed to a certain fixgd sum to be paid till 
altered with their consent ; while at the same time all risk of obstruc- 
tion to English legislation by Irish means was removed by the 
proposal that the Irish representatives should exercise local powers in 
Dublin instead of imperial powers at Westminster. 

On the basis of the above arrangement the Bill of Mr. Gladstone was 
founded. Absolute local autonomy was conferred on Ireland ; the assent 
of the Irish members to quit the Imperial Parliament was accepted; 



and the Bill provided that after a certain day the representative Irish 
peers should cease to sit in the House of Lords^ and the Irish 
members vacate their places in the House of Commons. Provisions 
were then made for the absorption in the Irish Legislative Body of 
both the Irish representative peers and Irish members. 

The legislative supremacy of the British Parliament was maintained 
by an express provision excepting from any interference on the part 
of the Irish Legislature all imperial powers, and declaring any enact- 
ment void which infringed that provision ; further, an enactment was 
inserted for the purpose of securing to the English Legislature in the 
last resource the absolute power to make any law for the government 
of Ireland, and therefore to repeal, or suspend, the Irish Constitution. 

Technically these reservations of supremacy to the English Legisla- 
ture were unnecessary, as it is an axiom of constitutional law that a 
sovereign Legislature, such as the Queen and two Houses of Parlia- 
ment ill England, cannot bind their successors, and consequently can 
repeal or alter any law, however fundamental, and annul any re- 
strictions on alteration, however strongly expressed. Practically they 
were never likely to be called into operation, as it is the practice of 
Parliament to adhere, under all but the most extraordinary and unfore- 
seen circumstances, to any compact made by Act of Parliament 
between itself and any subordinate legislative body. The Irish Legis- 
lature was subjected to the same controlling power which has for 
centuries been applied to prevent any excess of jurisdiction in our 
Colonial Legislatures, by a direction that an appeal as to the consti- 
tutionality of any laws which they might pass should lie to the Judicial 
Committee of the Privy Council. This supremacy of the imperial 
judicial power over the action of the Colonial Legislatures was a system 
which the founders of the American Constitution copied in the estab- 
lishment of their supreme Court, and thereby secured for that legis- 
lative system a stability which has defied the assaults of faction and 
the strain of civil war. .. 

The Executive Government of Ireland was continued in her Majestj, 
and was to be carried on by the Loid Lieutenant* on her behalf, by the 
aid of such officers and such Council as her Majesty might from time to 
time see fit. The initiative power of recommending taxation was 
also vested in the Queen, and delegated to the Lord Lieutenant. 
These clauses are co-ordinate and correlative with the clause conferring 
complete local powers on the Irish Legislature, while it preserves all 
imperial powers to the Imperial Legislature. The Governor is an 
‘imperial officer, and will be bound to watch over imperial interests 
with a jealous scrutiny, and to veto any Bill which may be injurious 
to those interests. On the other hand, as respects all local matters, 
he will act on and be guided by the advice of the Irish Executive 
Council. The system is selt-acting. The Governor, for local pur- 

IRELAND'S 'alternatives. 


poses, must have a Council which is in harmony with the Legislative 
Body. If the Governor and a Council, supported by the Legislative 
Body, do not agree, the Governor must give way, unless he can, by 
dismissing his Council and dissolving the Legislative Body, obtain both 
a Counci] and a Legislative Body which will support his views. As 
respects imperial questions, the case is different ; here the last word 
rests with the mother country, and in the last resort a determination 
of the Executive CouTicil, Ifecked by the Legislative Body, to resist 
imperial rights, must be deemed an act of rebellion on the part of 
tlie Irish people, and be dealt with accordingly. 

In acceding ft) the claims of the National Party for Home Rule 
in Ireland another question had to be considered : the demands of 
the English garrison, as it is called — or, in plain words, of the class of 
Irish landlords — for protection. They urged that to grant Home 
Rule in Ireland would be to hand them over to their enemies, their 
tenants, and to lead to an immediate, or at all events a proximate, 
confiscation of their properties. Without admitting the truth of these 
apprehensions to the full extent, or indeed to any great extent, it was un- 
doubtedly felt by the framers of the Home Rule Bill that a moral obliga- 
tion rented on the Imperial Government to remove, if possible, the 
fearful exasperations attending the agrarian relations in Ireland,^^ rather 
than leave a question so fraught with danger, so involved in difficulty, 
to be determined by the Irish Government on its first entry on 
official existence. Hence the Land Bill, the scheme of which was to 
frame a system under which the tenants, by being made owners of 
the soil, should become interes^^cd as a class in the maintenance of 
social order, while the landlords should be enabled to rid themselves 
on fair terms of their estates, in cases where, from apprehension of 
impending changes, or for pecuniary reasons, they were desirous of 
relieving themselves from the responsibilities of ownership. A 
former article^ contains the details of Mr. Gladstone's land scheme : 
it proposed to lend the Irish Government 3 per cent, stock at per 
cent, interest, the Ir&h Government undertaking to purchase, from 
any Irish landlord desirous of selling, his estate at (as a general rule) 
twenty years^ purchase on the net rental. The money thus disbursed 
by the Irish Government was repaid to them by an annuity, payable 
by the tenant for forty-nine years, of A per cent, on a capital sum 
equal to twenty times the gross rental ; the result being that, were the 
Bill passed into law, the tenant would become immediate owner of the 
land, subject to the payment of an annuity considerably less than the 
previous rent — that the Irish Government would make a considerable * 
profit on the transaction, inasmuch as it would receive from the tenant 
interest calculated on the basis of the gross rental, whilst it would pay 
*to the English Government interest calculated on the basis of the 

* See “ Home Rule and Imperial Unity ** : CoNTEMroBAKV Review, March 1887. 

164 * 


net rental — and that the English Government would sustain no loss if 
the interest were duly received by them. 

The effect of such a plan appears almost magical : Ireland is trans- 
formed at one stroke from a nation of landlords into a nation of peasant 
proprietors — ^apparently without loss to any one, and with gain to every- 
body concerned, except the British Government, who neither gain nor 
lose in the matter. The practicability, however, of such a scheme de- 
pends altogether on the security against losi. afforded to the British tax- 
payer, for he is industrious and heavily burdened, and cannot be ex- 
pected to assent to any plan which will land him in any appreciable loss. 
Here it is that the plan of Mr. Gladstone’s Land Bil^^differs from all 
other previous plans. Act after Act has been passed enabling the 
tenant to borrow money from the British Government on the 
security of the holding, for the purpose of enabling him to purchase 
the fee-simple. In such transactions the British Government 
becomes the mortgagee, and can only recover its money, if default is 
made in payment, by ejecting the tenant and becoming the landlord. 
In proportion, then, as any existing purchase Act succeeds, in the same 
proportion the risk of the British taxpayer increases. He is ever 
placed in the most invidious of all lights : instead of posing ^as the 
generous benefactor who holds forth his hand to rescue the landlord 
and tenant from an intolerable position, he stands forward either 
SLS the grasping mortgagee or as the still more hated landlord, who, 
having deprived the tenant of his holding, is seeking to introduce 
another man into property which really belongs to the ejected tenant. 
Such a position may be endurable when the number of purchasing 
tenants is small, but at once breaks down if agrarian reform in 
Ireland is to be extended so far as to make any appreciable difference 
in the relations of landlord and tenant ; still more, if it become 
general. Now, what is the remedy of such a state of things ? Surely 
to interpose the Irish Government between the* Irish debtor and his 
English creditor, and to provide that the Irish revenues in bulk, not 
the individual holdings of each tenant, shall be the security for the 
English creditor. This is the SQhcmc embodied in the Land Act 
of 1886. ' The punctual payment of all money due from the Govern- 
ment of Ireland to the Government of Great Britain is secured by the 
continuance in the hands of the British Government of the Excise 
and Customs duties, and by the appointment of an Imperial Receiver- 
General, assisted by subordinate officers, and protected by an Imperial 
Court. This officer receives not only all the imperial taxes, but also 
*the local taxes ; it is his duty to satisfy the claims of the JBritish 
Government before he allows any sum to pass into the Irish 
Exchequer. In effect, the British Government, in relation to the 
levying of imperial taxes, stands in the same relation to Ireland as 
Congress does tothe^United States in respect to the levying of federal 



taxes. The fiscal unity of Great Britain and Ireland is thus secured, 
and the British Government is protected against any loss of interest 
for the large sums which must be expended in carrying into effect 
in Ireland any agrarian reform worthy of the name. 

The Irish Bills of 1886, as above represented, have at least three 
recommendations : 

1. They create a state of things in Ireland under which it is pos- 
sible to make a complet ‘ agrarian reform without, exposing the 
English Exchequer to any appreciable risk. 

2. They enable the Irish to govern themselves as respects local 
matters, while preserving intact the supremacy of the British 

3. They enable the British Parliament to govern the British Empire 
without any obstructive Irish interference. 

To the first of these propositions no attempt at an answer has been 
made. The Land Bill was never considered on its merits; indeed, 
was never practically discussed, but was at once swept into oblivion 
by the wave which overwhelmed the Horae Rule Bill. 

The contention against the second proposition was concerned' irk 
proving that the supremacy of the British Parliament was not main- 
tained : the practical answer to this objection has been given above. 
Pushed to its utmost, it could only amount to proof that an amendment 
ought to have been introduced in Committee, declaring, in words better 
selected than those introduced for that purpose in the Bill, that nothing 
in the Act should affect the supremacy of the 'Rivtivah. PaAvament. 
In short, the whole discussion here necessarily resolved itself into a 
mere verbal squabble as to the construction of a clause in a Bill not 
yet in Committee, and had no bottom or substance. 

It was also urged that the concession of self-government to Ireland 
was but another mode of handing over the Loyalist party — or, as it is 
sometimes called, the English garrison — to the tender mercies of the 
Parnell ites. The reply to this would seem to be, that as respects pro- 
perty the Land Bill effectually prevented any interference of the 
Irish Parliament with the land ;• nay, more, enabled any Irishman 
desirous of turning his laud into money to do so on the most advan- 
tageous terms that ever had been — and with a falling market it may 
be confidently prophesied ever can be— offered to the Irish landlord; 
while as respect life and liberty, were it possible that they should be 
endangered, it was the duty of the imperial officer, the Lord Lieu- 
tenant, to take means for the preservation of peace and good order ; 
and behind him, to enforce his behests, stand the strong battalions wher, 
to our sorrow be it spoken, have so often been called upon to put 
down disturbance and anarchy in Ireland. 

As the Bill was drawn, the removal of Irish obstruction was 
effected by the exclusion of the Irish members^ from the British Par- 


liament. This it was urged was a dismemberment of the British 
empire and a destruction of its unity. In vain it was replied^ that 
even when Ireland had a virtually independent Parliament Burke held 
that the unity of the empire still existed. In vain it was urged that 
representation of a component member of the empire had of necessity 
nothing to do with its unity; that the Channel Islands, Isle of 
Man, and groups of colonies extending over one-sixth of the 
surface of the. globe, constituting the BriKsh Empire, were a standing 
protest against such a contention ; therefore, however undesirable such 
an exclusion might be, at all events it could not dismember the empire 
by merely placing one component member, Ireland, in the same position 
as other component members of the empire, not being physical parts 
of Great Britain. All was in vain — sentiment prevailed ; this exclu- 
sion became a rock of offence to a sufficient number of the Liberal 
party to enable a majority to be formed against the (Jovernment, 
and on this rock the Bill was wTecked. 

An alteration of the Home Rule Bill, with a view to re.storc tlie 
Irish members to their places in the British Parliament, raises no 
question of principle, but involves extreme^ difficulties of detail. It‘ 
they are to be entitled always to attend and vote even on questions ex- 
clusively English or Scotch, they have undue privileges accorded to 
them, inasmuch as they acquire a right to interfere in lotal British 
matters, while the British representatives can say nothing on local 
Irish affairs. On the other hand, if they vote only on imperial 
matters, three Parliaments are established- -an Irish Parliament, 
a British Parliament, and an Iraperical Parliament; and undoubtedly 
it is not easy to draw the lines pf demarcation between Far 

the best way, then, would seem to be, to accept for tiic present the 
assent of the Irish members to be left, for a time at all e\cnts, to 
manage only their own affairs ; but if this desire on their part is per- 
sistently overruled by the determination of the British members tc> 
have Ireland represented in Parliament, provision must be made for 
such representation on occasion of discussions otf peace and war, and 
some other matters of imperial consequence. • 

Competing plans have been put forward, with more or less detail, 
for governing Ireland, The suggestion that Ireland should be 
governed as a Crown colony need only be mentioned to be rejected. 
It means in effect, that Ireland should sink from the rank of an equal 
or independent member of the British Empire to the grade of the most 
dependent of her colonics, and should be governed despotically by 
English oflSciak, without representation in the English Parliament or 
any machinery of local self-government. Another proposal has been to 
give four provincial Governments to Ireland, limiting their powers to 
local rating, education, and legislation in respect of matters which 
form the subjects of private Bill legislation at present ; in fact, to place 



them somewhat on the footing of the provinces of Canada, while 
reserving to the English Parliament the powers vested in the 
Dominion of Canada. Such a scheme would seem adapted to whet 
the appetite of the Irish for nationality, without supplying them with 
any portion of the real article. It would supply no basis on which 
a system of agrarian reform could be based, as it would be impossible 
to leave the determination of a local question, which is a unit in its 
dangers and its difficulticsJiyl » four different Legislatures ; above all, the 
hinge on which the question turns — the sufficiency of the security 
for the British taxpayer — would not be afforded by provincial re- 
sources. Indeed, no alternative for the Land Bill of 1880 has been 
suggested, which does not err in one of the following points : either 
it pledges English credit on insufficient security, or it requires the 
landowners to accept Irish debentures or some form of Irish paper 
money at par; in other words, it compels the landowner, if he sells 
at all, to sell at a most inadequate price. Before parting with 
Canada, it may be worth while noticing that another, and more 
feasible, alternative is to imitate more closely the Canadian Consti- 
tution, and to vest the central or Dominion powers in a central 
Legislature in Dublin, parcelling out the provincial powers, as 
they have been called, amongst several provincial Legislatures. 
This scheme might be made available as a means of protecting Ulster 
from the supposed danger of undue interference from the Central 
Government, and for making, possibly, other diversities in the local ad- 
ministration of various parts of Ireland in order to meet special local 

Mr. Dicey intimates that one of two forms of representative 
colonial government might be imposed on Ireland — either the form 
in which the c\" cutive is conducted by colonial officials, or the form 
of the great irresponsible colonics. The first of these forms is open 
to the objection, that it perpetuates those struggles between English 
executive measures and Irish opinion which has made Ireland for 
centuries ungovernable, and led to the establishment of the union and 
destruction of Irish iudepcudence in 1800 ; the second proposal would 
destroy the fiscal unity of the empire — leave the agrarian feud uuex- 
tingtRshed, and aggravate in every particular the objections which 
have been urged against the Home Jlule Bill of 1886. A question 
still remains, in relation to the form of the Home Rule Bill of 1886, 
which would not have deserved attention ‘but for the prominence 
given to it in some of the discussions upon the subject. The Bill of 
] 886 provides that the Ijcgislature may make laws for the peace? 
order, and good government of Ireland/^ but subjects their power to 
numerous exceptions and restrictions. The Act establishing the 
Dominion of Canada enumerates various matters iu respect of which 
the Ijegislature of Canada is to have exclusive power, but prefaces tlie 



enumeration with a clause " that the Dominion Legislature may make 
laws for the peace, order, and good government of Canada in relation 
to all matters not within the jurisdiction of the provincial Legislatures, 
although such matters may not be specially mentioned/' In efifect, 
therefore, the difference between the Irish Bill and the Canadian Act 
is one of expression and not of substance, and, although the Bill is 
more accurate in its form, it would scarcely be worth while to insist 
on legislating by exception instead of by.guumeration if, by the sub- 
stitution of the latter form for the former, any material opposition 
would be conciliated. 

What, then, are the conclusions intended to be drawn from the 
foregoing premises ? 

1. That coercion is played out, and can no longer be regarded as 
a remedy for the evils of Irish misrule. 

‘ 2. That some alternative must be found, and that the only 
alternative within the range of practical politics is some form of 
Home Buie. 

3. That there is no reason for thinking tliat the grant of Home 
Buie to Ireland — a member only, and not one of the most impor^^ant 
members, of the British Empire — will in any way dismember, or even 
in the slightest degree risk the dismemberment of the Empire. 

4. That Home Buie presupposes and admits the supremacy of the 
British Parliament. 

5. That theory is in favour of Home Bulc, as the nationality of 
Ireland is distinct, and justifies a desire for local independence ; 
while the establishment of Horne llule is a necessary condition to 
the effectual removal of agrarian disturbances in Irciaiui. 

6. That precedent is in favour of granting Home Buie to Ireland 
— the success of the new Constitution in Austria-Hungary, and 
the happy effects resulting from the establishment of the Dominion 
of Canada. 

7. That the particular form of Home Buie granted is comparatively 

8. That the Home Bulc Bill of 1880 may readily be amended in 
such a manner as to satisfy all real and unpartisan o)}jcctors. 

9. That the Land Bill of 1880 is the best that has ever^been 
devised, having regard to the advantages offered to the new Irish 
Government, the landlord, and the tenant; and that any Bill in- 
tended to be just to tht Irish landlord, the Irisli tenant, and the 
British taxpayer, must follow the line of that Bill to a very great 



S OME years ago 1 considered it advisable to intervene in the ques- 
tion, at that time red-hot, of Mr. Shapiras too notorious 
‘^Deuteronomy,^’ and make sliort work of a mystification whose pro- 
traction threatened to cast undeserved discredit upon studies of the 
highest order, accessible only to a few. I then explained, as follows, 
the motives which l(‘d me to tliis intervention, singularly unwelcome 
to certain blind or jircjudiced persons: — 

‘•'The first dnty m 1' a savant is tn keep waieh over 'science, and to rid it as 
(juickly poj,sil>h- ol sudi iinjH.-tiin*s ; for they cannot but compromise it in 
the eyes of the profane, vln*, aftor repratod deceptions of this kind, pro so far 
as to confouiKl in the the true and tin* false, and hold in sus- 

picion tilt* most ohvioii> facts and the least tloubilUl monuments. Have I not 
heard it insinu.c around me, in Londtiu, that if the Sliapira MS. were a 
forgery, the Moahite Stone and tin* iiiscrij*tion of the atpieduct of Siloah — 
that is to say. the most precious and genuine pages of Semitic epigraphy — 
might be equally I'alse ’ ' * 

The event has finally justified my apprehensions — at least, partly 
so; and has proved 'that after liaving mistaken the tares for the w heat, 
one is too easily inclined to take ’the wheat for the tares. Here is 
llic IMoabite Stone, in its turn, put on its trial, and the innocent 
made to pay for the guilty. 

In expressing myself tlius, 1 meant, I must say, not so much the 
savants, who arc supposed to be guided only by cool reason, as the 
public at large, which yields, very excusably, to the impulse of superficial 
impressions. It appears tliat 1 was in error as regards this point, for 
it is a schohtr, a very estimable Hebraic scholar, the Secretary to the 
Anglo-Je wish Association, who, under the influence of a hallneinatiou 
of scepticism, now rises up, solemnly declaring the stela of Mesha to 
» ‘*1^8 Fraudes Arclu^ologiques en Palestine,” &c., i). 2*JS. Paris, ]8Sr> 

VOL. m. N # , 



be tbe work of a forger, and this angular stone of Semitic epigraphy 
and Biblical exegesis nothing but a stone of stumbling/' Here- 
upon he brings his action against it in due form, in one of the last 
numbers of the Scottish Review accompanied, like an illustrated 
article upon the hero of a celebrated crime, by the portrait of the guilty 
stela. If Ave are to believe him, the Louvre should lose no time in send- 
ing the monument AA’hicIi has dishonoured it for so many years to join 
the bits of leather offered to the British !Muscum by the unfortunate 
Mr. Shapira. As for me, I Avould have nbthing better to do, should 
]Mr. Lduy gain his case, but to take the first express for Rotterdam, 
and blow out my brains in turn; for, after all, I cannot conceal that 
I have a good deal of responsibility in the matter, having thus incon- 
siderately introduced to savants, under the name of Kii»g Mesha, the 
vile impostor unmasked by Mr. Ldwy. 

But before going to such tragic extremes, I may perhaps be per- 
mitted, as the case is in some measure my own, to timidly raise 
my voice on behalf of the Moabite king, so sharply attacked by the 
descendant of one of his secular enemies, and to have ray say in ibis 
old quarrel of Israel and Moub, Avhich has be(*n reopened on fresh 
ground, after so many centuries, under a form as |)i(|uant as un- 
expected. Alas, poor Mesha ! Before deceiving us, how he demved 
himself, when he inscribed on the basalt his thanksgiving to bis god 
Kemosb, for having delivered him from the hand of Israel, and made 
him definitively triumph over his enemies and haters.’' lie did 
not foresee Mr, A. Ldwy and the retaliation of Avhich the Rev. Rabbi 
was to be, many centuries later, the jirovidcntial iijJitnnnent. 

The account of this new ** burden of iloah " sounds truly like the 
inspired voice of a second Isaiah., But one must perlnps not extdaim 
too hastily : '^Moab is confounded; for it i.s broken down." 

Fossibly silence Avould liavc been the be^t answer to give to such 
extravagances, which Avill not for a moment bear critical investigation, 
and do not deserve, in liie eyes of true savants, the lionour of a 
regular refutation. But, berides savants, there is the public, ou 
whose mind the extraordinary assurance of Mr. Biiwy may have left 
a few clouds of doubt which it is expedient to disperse. I have also 
another reason for breaking this silence ; it is that Mr. Liiwy might 
interpret it as a tacit admission on my part, since he already gives 
his readers to that my confidence is shaken. f Hv-and^-by be 

By the Rev. 

* April JSS7, ‘ Tlif^ Apocryplial Charaettr of the 
A. Lowy. U ith au iliuHtratioii 

■ti "f tl'is kind.’’ say* Sfr • tiiav l,av<. ««Bio wwaht 

witli M. <.annc;m ivlin po,sjUyl.asIc,8t hi* coiKid- ii.- in Iin' laiiioun dlicoverv,” lU 
wmpletes his idea III a letter rtrently addressed t-t the !■ m/rinv cavinc that 



may be capable of classing me amongst those continental scholars ” 
whom he professes to have converted to his manner of thinking. How- 
ever flattering might be to me the company of MM. Graetz, Zunz, 
Steinschneider^ &c.j who are summoned as having preceded or followed 
their bold co-religionist in the way of truth, I prefer ‘‘very incautiously" 
following my own road in the way of error, where I am also neither 
in too bad nor too meagre company. I am not a little surprised that 
scholars of the standing »'i M. Graetz and M. Zunz^ should have 
allowed themselves to be talked over by the archaeological paradox of 
Mr. Lbwy. One must, however, believe it, since the latter asserts 
it : unless it is with them as with M. Oppert, whom Mr. Lowy 
shows to us, in all sincerity I doubt not, as one of his partisans, and 
who, notwithstanding, h:is autliorizcd me to expressly contradict the 
opinion unduly attributed to him.t 

The theory maintained by ^Ir. Linvy has not even, as might be 
supposed, the merit of novelty, lie himself loyally acknowledges that he 
is by no means the first to have put forward doubts as to the genuine- 
ness of the ^Moabite Stone and sounded the alarm-bell. We had 
already heard a faint tinkling of this kind in the note of a German 
savant, Dr. Kautzsch — a singularly equivocal notej — which was written 
under the then recent iiiqjression of the mortifying adventure of the false 
Moabite eroekery jnircbast d at a high price by the German Govern- 
ment, and brought down by me to its ]>roi)er value. § It is always, 
as may be seen, the same story : ‘‘ That eehaude craint Peau froide.'^ 
Consequently, Mr. Ldsxy is quite right when, relying on the 
tenour of this note, he juoves, text in hand, to M. Socin that his 
colleague, Dr. Kautzsch, luxs mojit certainly had doubts of the 
authenticity of the Moabite Stone. , 

But he is quite wrong when he statc.s that no one has hitherto ven- 

* S<?e, on thift iwint, tlu* olisiTvatioiii' nuuU* in t!ie .Innh unf (.Tuly 0. p. 2S) by the 
anonymous Mi. r.nwv 

t Here ia tin* letter aiMresst tl t‘» im- on tin's .^ubji'ct by tlie eminent Academician : — 
** Kissioi^eii, VI . hi Uhl 1SS7 le \«>us .luttujM* pUincMnent A rectilier rerrour. J’ai 
vn M. (Graetz a )trc^!alu tin Sejit* mbre ls7ti, ct je i-rois lui avoir parle. sans hesitatiou 
oil doiite, inais avec indiirn.itiMn. cies tmirbene.'' moabitn(Ues du fameiix j>rnse]ytc. 
[>e}iuis j’al on r lion lieu r de vnir Ic i't'K br^ historieii de.s Isr.nelites, le 23 Mars 1S81, en 
presence de M. dosrph l>eivnbouiy. tt je ne erois jias que uotre conversation se soit 
arr^t^e ur seul instant sur rin>ciiptiou de Mesa. Je n'ai aaucuMe epoque, pn douttT 
<le ce moniuneiit. Les raisons mise^ en avuiit i*ar M. Lowy consistt it presque exclusive- 
ment dans des objections oonceni.ant le st.vledu texte: mais, fussent eiles m^rne an 
point de viie lu*l)rau]ii« nioins contestames qii'elle*' no Ic sont, elles sombreraieot devant 
les considerations paleo^rapliicpies, arclle'»loglqlu^ ct in aUui dies militant en faveur de 
rautheuticite. J’ai recounu dans Ics arl]^nuK•nt^ do M. Lowy les cousins ^^ermai ns des 
diSmonstrations avec lemiucllcs on a comhattu lad.s. ct avre lestjuellcs on <’ombat encore 
aujonrd hoi les dveouvertes divcrses de l’aix«\iKiio^H'. Je me dots cette rectilication a 
inoi Tiiemo.--J. OrrKRT.” " . 

X ** Die Acchtheitder Moalntisclien Altertli diner gepruft. Von Prof. E. Kautzscli uinl 

Prof. A. SSocin. Strasbourg, 1807. P. I On. 

§ The detailed account may lie found in the book above mentioned, ** Ijcs Fraudes 
Archeologiques en Palestine,” chap. iii. pp. 10.‘}“183. 

II It appears from a recent letter of Dr. Kautzsch (Aeademtf, hi\ vit.\ that he has 
repented. So much the better ; but it was iu>t before the cock had crowe^i more than 
twice. # , 



tured to undertake a critical examination of the Stone of Moab^ with a 
view of ascertaining whether its inscription is really 2,800 years old/^ 

This new-fashioned Messiah, come to destroy and not to confirm, 
has had, without being aware of it, his forerunner. But it must 
have been only the voice of one crying in the wilderness, for public 
and savants together have remained equally deaf; the echo does 
not appear to have reached even the ears of Mr. Liiwy himself, 
though they are so marvellously sharp tlifct he recognizes in the 
JMoabite pronunciation of King Mesha the twang of a Gcrman- 
Jewish mountebank hidden in the Punch and Judy box. He forgets, 
in fact, or he is ignorant of, the existence of a curious little pamphlet 
published in 1879 by Mr. S. Sharpe, under the title of An Inquiry 
into the Age of the Moabite Stone.** The author leans upon several 
considerations, some of which we find again in Mr. Lbwy’s article, in 
order to establish that the inscription cannot possibly be that of King 
Mesha, and he arrives at a conclusion which is not without a certain 
originality. Our text must have been engraved about the year 
260 A.D., by order of a Palmyrenian prefect of the land of Moab — 
perhaps Maioniu'^, cousin of Odenathiis — with a view to prove by 
the help of a fictitious document the ah anthjao rights of the \Ioal)- 
ites over the territory of the tribe of licuben. !Mr. Sharpe, at least, 
left us the illusion that the imposture dated from many centuries 
back. Mr. Ijbwy is merciless ; he deprives us of this last little bit of 
consolation by peremptorily asserting that the fraud is of yesterday, 
and not even of the day before. 

Upon what arguments docs ^Ir. Ldwy rely to give an opinion which, 
whatever he may .say, runs count^ir to that of tlic great majority (not 
to say unanimity) of the most oualified savants? Has he, at least, u 
good reason to bring forward ? Has he discovered some unheeded fact 
which can be considered as a proof, or even the beginning of a proof? 
Not at all, and one is confounded by the frailty — or, to express it better, 
the inanity — of the reasons for this daring judgment, bawled on the 
housetops of the Scottish Reviem^ and aiming 'rather to strike the 
public imagination by an ostentatious display (rt‘ erudition, than to 
convince competent scholars. 

There is one point upon wliich Mr. Ldwy does not, so to speak, 
touch, ^nd wdiich is, nevertheless, of capital importance in the question. 
He has already been justly reproached for it from several quarters.* 
It is that of the paheography of the Moabite Stone. Mr. Ldwy pre- 
tends that the forger has taken his philological inspiratirm from the 

* Read particularly M. llali'vy, in the th^ Kimh i JuireM (April -.Tune, 

1887, p. 315) has taken the trouble to tliscnss, with luiinite (letuils, Mr. Liiwy's theory. 
He peremptorily rejects it, of course, at tlic same time payit^ him unexpected coinpli- 
mentfi, to which I jannot snbscrihe. 1 liumbly acknowJedj^^e that 1 (lo not see in what 
manner this attempt, which is so complete a tailure, “ will considerably contribute to the 
jirogreas of interpretation. On not a single obscure point of the text does its commentary 
throw— I will not say light, Jilt — even the shadow of a light. 



inscription of King Ashmunazar. Will he maintain that he was also 
pal80ographically inspired by it ? The shape of the letters upon the 
two monuments diflers entirely. The sai’cophagus of Ashmunazar^ 
which, as I long ago pointed out, does not even date from the 
Persian but from the Ptolemaic * epoch, offers us a type of Phoenician 
writing of a later period — having already undergone sensible altera- 
tion ; the Moabite Stong on the contrary, gives the most ancient 
and the purest type of this writing, nearly similar to that already 
partly known to us by several archaic specimens : the epigraphs en- 
graved on the bronze lions of Nineveh, the legends on many intaglios, 
and, above all, the most ancient Greek inscriptions. To this type 
also belongs the inscription of the aqueduct of Siloah at Jerusalem, 
engraved on the rock in the time of Ezechias. Mr. Lowy cannot 
say that this text, discovered long after the Moabite Stone, with 
which it presents the most striking palicographical analogies, has 
served as a model. He has still the resource, it is true, of de- 
claring it apocryphal. Apocryphal also must be the two inscriptions, 
in characters identical with those of the inscription of the aqueduct 
of Siloah, engraved on the rock which 1 had already discovered in 
1870* at the very gates of Jerusalem ! 

Mr. Ldwy docs not enter into any explanation as to the personality 
of this mysterious forger to whom ^YC should owe the Moabite Stone, 
and who must certainly have been a marvellous scholar, so perfectly 
conversant with the latest scientific discoveries and theories that he 
has even auticiiiated them on several points. What a pity it is that, 
after the achievement, at the co^l of a thousand diHiciilties and sacri- 
fices, of this masterpiece of criiditibn. imagination, and patience, he 
has vanished without leaving the slightest trace, having derived from 
his enterprise neither honour nor profit ! AVliat admirable iinsclfish- 
iiess ! For lie lias worked soh‘lv for the love of art, without the 
smallest thought of jiersonal interest, merely seeking the platonic 
pleasure of mystifying the most reputed savants. One would, never- 
theless, have been glad to see tlie face and know the name of this 
masked Hebraic seliolar, who lias*so nicely taken in his most cunning 
brethren, but has luckily ended by finding bis master in the 
learned Secretary of the Anglo- Jewish Association. Probably the 
unfortunate fellow perished just after having so satisfactorily ter- 
minated his task, taking his secret with him to the grave. What an 
irreparable loss to science ! May these few lines, which render vciy 
feeble homage to his merits — too little appreciated by lilr. Lbwy-^- 
aerve as his funeral oration. 

Whilst respecting, and for very good reasons, his impenetrable 

* I thiuk I have succeeded in cfitablishing that Ptolomy II. (Phihvdelplnis^ is men- 
tioned as the suzerain of Ashmunazar in the epitaph of king, under the title of Jiit/n 
Melakiwy “Lord of Kings or Royalties” — ^literal translation' of 



incognito^ Mr. Lowy, I must confess, does not estimate as highly as 
I do the varied talents of this mystificator^ intangible as a goblin. 
He has no difficulty in showing us that after all he is a clumsy 
“schoolboy/' with a very limited knowledge of Hebrew, and a still 
more limited knowledge of Moabite ; much less, at all events, than 
Mr. Lciwy, for whom the language of Ruth, as well as that of David, 
has no mystery. Shall I own it ? Man's vanity is infinite. Whilst 
reading the first pages of Mr. Luwy's paper I had vaguely deluded 
myself with the unacknowledged hope that he would perhaps do me 
the honour of suspecting me to be the author of the forgery. Vain 
hope! I was quickly compelled to give up this naughty but nice illusion, 
and it was with a true feeling of humiliation that, instead of the part, 
flattering in spite of everything, of culprit — or at least accomplice — 
I was obliged to resign myself to the rolv^ always somewhat disagree* 
able, of victim and dupe. Mr. Liiwy points out Iicre and, there, in 
the incriminated text, turns and idioms of (jcnnauic or Anglo-Saxon 
language ; but not the least little (iallicism ! If my conscience has 
been relieved by this, my amour-propre has been rather disappointed. 

Here, in a few words, is ilr. Lbwy's theory. Tlie inscrii»tion of 
Meshamust have been fabricated by a forger about twenty years ago, 
on the pattern of the inscrii)tion of the King of Sidon, Ashmunazar, 
engraved on the sarcophagus shown in the Louvre. Subsequent to 
the discovery of this sarcophagus, “ purehased by the Duke dc Luynes 
for the sum of .t400, the cupidity of all sorts and classes of meu iu 
Palestine, as also in regions east of the Jordan, hoeame excited by 
the expectation that large profits might be realized through the 
fabrication of curiosities, iuscribefl or uninscribed Tliis must have 
encouraged Shapira to undertake the criminal and lucrative industry, 
of which the two most remarkable operations arc the fabrication of 
the Moabite pottery acquired by Prussia, and of the “ Deuteronomy," 
about wliich so much iiuisc was made but lately in Knglaud. Never- 
theless, Mr. Ldwy does not think that the inseri()tiuii on the Moabite 
Stone “was concocted by Sha])ira : the plot wps evidently laid by 
persons more skilled than he was in the arts and w iles of imposition." 

Mr. Ldwy could not say otherwise, for in fact Shapira had ueitlicr 
much nor little to do witli tlie aflair of the stela of Mesha. This 
stone of highest respectability has had, thank goodness, not the 
slightest connection whatever 'with so com pron lining a person. He 
none the less insinuates that this monument must belong to tbc same 
series of more than doubtful finds. I may be permitted to observe 
at once that Mr. Ldwy makes a material mistake when he states, to 
support his hypothesis, that Mr. Shapira was in J8G9 already actively 
engaged in his traffic in Moabite antiquities — that is to say. Wore the 
time when the Moabite Stone was introduced to the public. In reality, 
it was after this reveldtion and the sensation created by it, that the 



Moabite crockery made its first appearance in Jerusalem. These 
fantastical idols — or, to call them by their proper name, these dolls — 
are not, as I have fully pointed out elsewhere, the brothers and 
sisters of the stela, but its sons and daughters — its very illegitimate 
children, of course. Their manufacture was suggested by the stela, and 
did not accompany, still less precede it. This is an historical point 
definitely ascertained, and j,' is not without its importance ; the result 
being that the apparition of the stela from tfie heart of the land of 
Moab is an absolutely isolated and unexpected circumstance, for 
the arrival of which none of the premonitory and suspicious symptoms, 
wrongly supposed by Mr. Lowy, had prepared the way. 

However it may be, the forger, armed with the text composed on the 
pattern of that of Ashmunazar, had repaired, according to Mr. Lowy^s 
version, to the Bedouins of Moab, accustomed to receive frequent 
visits from Jerusalem, and had, with their consent, comfortably taken 
U]) his quarters in an isolated place, to engrave the inscription on the 
spot, on a stone suitably and carefully prepared ; he had gummed 
upon the surface to be engraved the copy of the inscription, previously 
transcribed on a sheet of tracing-paper, and had finished his work 
of “ lightly and quickly engraving in a few days. 

Mr. Ldwy asserts that the dressed surface of the stone, which 
has sufiered from the injuries of time, ‘‘ is ancient, whereas the inscrip- 
tion itself is modern, the characters inscribed on the stone having in 
no instance suffered from similar influences. Here at least is a 
categorical and precise assertion, and it is also printed in letters of a 
size proportionate to the importance attributed to it. Unluckily for 
Mr. Ldwy, it is contii’adictcd by an examination of the original, as 
every one may stc in the Louvre. To his assertion in large type I 
ask permission to oppose the following in letters of equal size, in order 
to reply, charge for charge, to his heavy but inofleusive artillery : 

The characters are contemiorary with the dressed surface 


If the engraved characters have in general suffered less than the 
'' pitted and indented ” surface,* that is natural and is to be observed 
in other antique inscriptions. The causes of alteration have neces- 
sarily less action in the interior of the sunken strokes. Moreover, it 
is very possible that originally these sunken letters were, as was 
frequently done by the ancients, painted with a coloured matter 
(minium or some other substance) intended to make them more visible.t* 
This is the more probable in the case of the Moabite Stone, because the 

Unfortunately — for us, as for Mr. Lowy — there are exceptioi?s ; a good number of the 
cliaracters are suflicieiitly defaced (and were so already before tue breaking of the 
as is shown by the squeeze) to render the deciphering of some passages very dilficult. 

t If 1 recollect rightly, Sir Charles Warren even thought that the letters on tlu' 
Moabite Stone had perhaps bceu gilt. 



chai'acters, finely cut in this very hard stone, would, without this artifice, 
have been distinguished with great difficulty on the blackness of the 
basalt, as is now indeed the case. This substance eventually disappeared, 
but it must have exercised for a time a preservative influence on the 
hollows filled by it, whilst the surface was exposed to corrosion with- 
out protection. This would help to explain the unequal preservation 
of the letters and of the ground. The condition of the stone might 
• be compared 4o that 6f an etchers plate submitted to the biting 
action of aquafortis ; the colouring matter serving in some* measure 
as a protecting varnish. 

Consequently, it must perforce be admitted, the forger would not 
only have had to engrave the text upon so refractory a substance 
as basalt, which would itself have been no trifling job, even with the 
famous " three-cornered chisel discovered by Mr. Ldwy’s perspicacity, 
and of which he speaks emphatically, as though he had really found a 
corpus delicti : he would, besides, have had previously to cut, dress, 
mould, and polish the stela itself, which is highly improbable. This 
is not all ; he would, moreover, have had to subject the stone to a com- 
plicated treatment, in order to give to all the surfaces of this huge 
block the most perfect appearance of age and decay, such' as is 
admitted by Mr. Liiwy himself. 

This hypothesis, fanciful as it is, at least evades a difficulty of 
which Mr. Lbwy has never thought. The insidious engraver, having, 
according to him, brought a tracing of the inscription to be cut, must 
have found, precisely on the spot at Dibon, an antique stela, all 
ready shaped to measure, Jind purposely left without Inscription, 
whose form and dimensions answered exactly tc^ his pattern. What 
a happy combination of circumstances ! There is really a Providence 
over forgers, as over children, lovers, and drunkards. Mr. Llivy 
says : “ Dressed blocks, dating from the times of the R" mans, 
abounded in different parts of th 9 ancient land of ]\Ioab, and could 
easily be inscribed by a forger who was an adept in his art.^^ 
Evidently Mr. Ldwy means by this, ordinary quadrangular blocks ; 
he forgets that the Moabite Stone is not a simple square block, but a 
stela, a stone of very peculiar shape, recalling the Egyptian and 
Assyrian stclse, rounded on the top, with its inscribed surface framed 
in a projecting moulding. I doubt whether tliere are many of these 
uninscribed stelse sown about by the ancients in the field of Moab,^^ 
for the greater convenience of future forgers, finding thus close at 
Jiaud in the desert " tout ce qu^il faut pour ecrire " as M, Scribe says. 

Otherwise, we must suppose that the mysterious author of the 
false inscription — who, after all Mr. Lbwy tells us, could be none 
other than a European, and a European remarkably well up in 
Hebrew and in palaeography, in spite of the quarrels which the 
learned and sceptical Hebraist tries to pick with him — went in person 
to the ruins of Dibon, and • proceeded with his own hand to the 



engraving of the inscription composed by himself, modifying the 
justification of the lines so as to make it fit the surface to be 
utilized I But in this* case how are we to reconcile these various 
suppositions, which Mr. Lowy ought really to have taken into 
account^ with what he tells us in reference to the, according fo him, 
irrational manner in which is cut the word had-Daibonij 

the Dibonian,^^ at lines 1 and 2 : — " The person who engraved the 
epigraph does not seem to have been acquainted with the value of 

the Phcenician letters This unnatural separation suggests also 

that the author of the forged inscription does not control the arrange- 
ment of the lines/’ 

Starting from this fixed idea that the inscription is false, Mr. 
Lowy undertakes to prove it ])y a critical, detailed, and unbiassed 
analysis, exclusively based on the transcription given last year by 
MM. Smend and Socin.* He does not seem to be aware that this 
transcription, taken by him as a standard text, is not to be depended 
upon in several points, as I have proved in a work Mr. Lowy might 
and ought to have been acquainted with, t He would thus have 
spared himself more than one coup d^epee dans femiy such as that he 
directs against the alleged construction of the genitive by the help 
of the pretended preposition tain, + It is truly too easy to tax this 
reading with being “ barbarous rendering,'^ egregiously un-Hebraic,” 
for it exists only in the imagination of the two Gekhrten whom Mr. 
Li)wy has taken for his sole guides, and appears to hold infallible — 
probably because they arc German, 

The same remark applies to the reading hemesh!a inesfia (lines 3,4); 
and might be a])plied to other no, less erroneous readings of MM. 
Smend and Sf»cin that 3Ir. Li’>wy accepts as gospel truth, although 
they are just as inadmissible. It is needless to superadd to the 
visionary blunders of the author of our inscription the " solecisms 
and barbarisms ” which only rest on misreadings of its last but not 
final interpreters. 

Mr. Lowy reproaches the author of the inscription of Mesha — already 
convicted of knowing German and English — for introducing here and 
there into his fancy language Arabic^ forms; he does not think to 
ask himself whether these forms, before being Arabic, are not Ara- 
mean, and whether wc ought not a pi'iori to expect, considering what 
we already knew concerning the Moabites^ that the Semitic dialect 
spoken by them should be just intermediate between Hebrew, Aramean, 
and aichaic Arabic. Moreover, Mr. Lowy follows a very convenient 
but most strange way of reasoning. Each time he meets in the 
inscription with either a form or an expression approaching to biblical 
language, it is the result of plagiarism ; each time, on the other 

* “ Die Inschrift des Koni^s Mesa von Moab.” Freiburg. ISSti. 
t “La StUe de Mdsa, examen critique du texte.” Paris. 1SS7. Iiiiprimerie Ra- 
tionale. 'riiis auswer lias remained until noW \vithout a replv. 

% Lines 11, 12, and 25, 26. 



hand, he meets with a form or an expression deviating from it, it is 
the result of ignorance or of the imagination of the forger. And yet 
he is the first to acknowledge that there should be certain national 
and philological differences between the Israelites and the Moabites ; 
brothers and cousins, although they may be alike, have none the less 
their characteristic features. Moabite is not Hebrew, Hebrew is not 
Moabite, although the two languages belong to the same philological 
family. Certainly the inscription of Mcslfd contains a good number 
of un-Hebraic words and forms, and the savants who have studied it 
for seventeen years have not waited for Mr. Lowy^s opinion on this 
point to share it but — the false readings being left on the hands of 
their authors — there is not one word or form w hich is uu- Semitic. 

At this rate one might maintain with the same riglit, that the in- 
scription of Ashmunazar — the pretended model of the forger — is 
itself false ; for does it not contain at the same time many words and 
idioms which are pure Hebrew, and many words and idioms which 
differ from it ? Mr. Ldwv will sav it is Phoenician, and Phcenician 
and Hebrew’ arc congeneroUvS, but not identical. Well, he cannot 
have anything to object against our making the same answer about 
Moabite. Why docs he not also assert that the stela of Gebal, that 
the epitaph of Tabnith, discovered after the inscri[)tion of Ashmun- 
azar, and resembling it still more than the inscription of Mesha, are 
imitations of it due to forgers ? 

The text begins with the words Anoch Meslia^ ice “1 am 

Mesha,^^ &c. W’e naively think, do wc not, that this formula belongs 
to royal protocols of all ages and all countries, and that Mesha, like 
the kings of Assyria, for instance, has the right to make use of it 
without deserving to have his stone cast at him ‘r An error ! Mr. Lowy 
assures us that it is the result of a servile imitation of the inscription 
of Ashmunazar ! Ashmunazar and Tabnith, kings of Sidon, Ychaw- 
melek, king of Byblos, say Anoch Ashmunazar y Anoch Tabnithy melech 
Sidonim, I am Ashmunazar, I am Tabnith, king of the Sidonians ; ” 
Anoch Yehawmelck, melech Gebal, 1 am Yehaw melek, king of 'Gebal.” 
The odds arc ten to one, if ever, by chance, an inscription of a king 
of Israel or Judah be brough^ to light, that it will begin by these 
words : Anoch Ahub^ melech Israel, “ I am Aliab, king of Israel ; 
Anoch or Anochi Uizhlyah, melech Yehndah y'^ 1 am llczckiah, king of 
Jndah.” Mr. Lbwy does^ not allow that Mesha could make use of 
this formula. The poor king of Moab is forbidden to employ the word 
anoch, which belongs, however, to the common patrimony of the Semitic 
languages, under penalty of being collared like a vulgar pickpocket. 

j.At line 17 Mesha has the imprudence to pronounce the name of 

tK^oddess associated with his national god Kemosh, the name 

jj^tar-Kemosh, the Moabite Astarte. Stop there ! ” exclaims our 

j^^ctive ; it is the Astarte of the inscription of Ashmunazar. And 

^ j is the innocent Mesha coi^victcd of the treacherous abduction of 



a goddess^ and of a goddess who, nevertheless, has had adventures 
with more than one Semitic people, before and after Mesha. 

Further on (line 18) the incorrigible Mesha makes the blunder of 
writing in full the name of Jehovah (nin'*), the God of Israel, 
whose sanctuary he has plundered. Mr. Lowy, forgetting that this 
orthography dates back from the beginning of the tolerably ancient 
period when the Jews no longer pronounced the sacred tetragram, 
and that consequently it ia^ traditional, shows clearly as the day to 
the pseudo-Mesha that he is only an ignoramus, not to have omitted 
the third character (the waw). 

Mesha, at line 29, boasts, like the good conqueror he is, of 
having annexed several towns to the territory of Moab. He will 
pay dearly for this foible, for Mr. Lbwy has no trouble in proving 
that what he has really annexed is but a similar passage of the 
inscription of Ashmuiiazar. Is it, however, indiscreet to ask Mr. 
Ldwy, reasoning for an instant, if he will condescend to inform 
us — on the supiDOsition that our inscription might by chance be genu- 
ine — in what other terms Mesha ought to have expressed- himself, 
in order to explain, in his language, this historical fact, which recurs 
pretty frequently, alas ! at every period of the annals of humanity. 

Mr. Ldwy accuses the author of our inscription of having employed 
with unjustifiable emphasis the personal pronoun in the sentence : 
Va-anoch malachti achar abl, ‘‘ And I, I reigned after my father : 
he ought, according to him, to have simply said : Va^emloch^ &c.. 
And 1 am rcigniug.^^ 1 would answer, that Mesha had suflSciently 
good reasons for speaking so pompously ; he wished to show that he 
was a king, the son of a hin//, that het had inherited regal power from 
the hands of his father. This was a widely diffused feeling in antiquity, 
when monarchs attached very marked importance to direct transmis- 
sion of royalty by hereditary succession ; 7rapaXa/3orroc ti]v (iaatXeiav 
napa tov ttutooc, says Ptolcmaius Epiphaiics in the llosetta inscrip- 
tion. Such was ju’obably not the case with Mesha^s father, whatever 
may have been his real name, partly defaced on the stone ; for it is 
striking to observe that !Mesha mer.tions only his father and not his 
grandfather, whilst Ashmunazar (whose inscription is supposed to have 
been imitated by the forger !) does not omit to give both. I am 
inclined to conclude from these two facts, compared one with another, 

that Mesha's lather must have been the founder of a new Moabite 


dynasty, originated by favour of some event which sensibly weakened 
the suzerain power of the kingdom of Israel. The thirty years of 
reign attributed by our inscription to the father of Mesha invitef 
us to go back tolerably far to seek for this event — (towards the 
epoch of Omri?). 

On the other hand, it must be admitted, in order to find place for 
the series of important events and wprks of public utility related by 
Mesha, that he only had the stela made after he had reigned several 



years. These remarks lead us to take a new view of the exact 
moment^ hitherto much debated, when the erection of this commemo- 
rative stela took place. Amongst the possible solutions of this 
problem there is one which has been too much slighted, and which I 
deliver over to the consideration of savants until I return to it myself, 
without, however, yet maintaining it to be the true one. May not 
the Moabite Stone be posterior to the reigns of the two sons of Ahab, 
Ahaziah and Joram? This hypothesis, which would bring the 
Moabite Stone to about the year 881* b.c. (according to admitted 
chronology) — that is to say, subsequent to the tragedy of Jehu, 
— would explain the sentence of Mesha, speaking of Ahab : 
" And I have seen him and his house (struck down).’* This phrase 
recalls singularly the ruin of the liousc of Ahab (aSHN n^n), 
spoken of in the Second Book of Kings (ix. 8. 1), and passim) with 
regard to the death of Joram.* I do not, however, venture to make 
this comparison without trembling, as it will furiiish Mr. Liiwy \iitli 
fresh weapons, for he, as usual, will not fail to sec again in this 
striking ^semblance, which, by-thc-byc, lias escaped liim, a shameless 
plagiarism. Be that as it may, Mesha might have been, according to 
this view, successively contemporary with Ahab ( .... 3 
Ahaziah, Joram, and Jehu. This is, I again repeat, but an hypothesis ; 
I content myself with suggesting it, and reserve its technical discus- 
sion for another time. 

But enough of serious talking. Let us return to our suliject — 
that is to say, Mr. Lbwy^s criticism, of which this digression has 
momentarilv causeef us to lose sight. 

He is so blinded by his prepidiced ideas, that he cuds by losing 
himself on ground where an ine\])erienecd sclioolboy would be 
able to find his way. ]Mcsha gives the name of Karrhah to the place 
where he erected his stela and fixed his royal residence. Nothing 
can be more natural than to suppose that Karchah and Dibon formed 
part of the same city, and were connected in the same manner as 
Sion and Jerusalem. Not at all ! According to Mr. Lbwy, Karrhah 
is the name of the present city ‘of Karak. .situated far from Dibon, 
much more to the south ; and then he triumphantly asks by what 
miracle this massive stela has been conveyed from Karak to the ruins 
of Dibon, where it was found. lie only forgets one thing; that in 
spite of the superficial resemblance, which may, to an uninitiated 
eye or ear, appear to exist between these two names, there is no con- 
nection possible between q-i 3 , Karak, and nmp, Karrhah, which are 
written with radically different letters. 

The forger knows and uses, not only his Old Testament, but even 
his New. Thus, at lines 3 and 4, the allusion to the meaning of the 
name of MesKa saved is nothing but a plagiarism from the Gospel 

* See, for the lofises of Moabite territery sustained by Israel at the accession of Jehu, 
2 Kings X. 32, 33. 



of St. Matthew i. 21, referring to the etymology of the name of Jems. 
Further on (lines 13 and 14) the ethnical or geographical name 
Macharoth^ mniD, in which Mr. Lowy claims to find the name of 
the fortress of Machcerus* has been put there to touch pious souls^ 
by calling up remembrances of the martyrdom of John the Baptist. 

But the culminating point is when Mr. Lbwy imputes as a 
crime to Mesha that he assumed this name of Mesha, to which, 
according to him, he has n*' bright whatever, for it is simply a nick- 
name given to him by the Israelites, and which he has never borne ! 
This time it is no longer against the Moabite inscription that Mr. 
Lbwy brings the action; it is against the Books of the Kings them- 
selves. Useless to insist, is it not ? Let us only add that this name 
of MesJia — which, according to Mr. Lbwy, is not an historical name, 
but a nickname — is not even, in his opinion, a Semitic nickname. 
UntiJ now, every one agreed with the Moabite king, who explained 
it thus himself on the stela, that it was nothing but a name meaning 
saved,^^ very regularly derived from the Semitic root Yasha\ What 
a mistake ! It is an 1 ndo-European word ; a near relation of the 
Sanscrit and Hindustani Mesh : of the Persian Mishj which means 
sheep ; and it was given to the King of ]Moab by the Israelites, be- 
cause the former wad an opulent sheep-m aster. Such an etymology 
gives us the measure of the eritical capacity of its author. Since 
Mr. Lbwy recognizes in the writing of the Books of Kings an 
Ar}»^an influence of this proportion, one is less surprised to see 
him discern in the composition of the Moabite inscription the hand 
of a European having a tinge of Hebrew — very, very slight indeed. 

After that we can draw tlic line, for my readers have seen enough 
to be edified as to the value of itr, Lbwy’s opinion, resting on 
” internal and external evidence/^ that the Moabite Stone is a fraudu- 
lent fabrication.” It would be wasting time and trouble to discuss 
point by point such groundless objections. 

So total a blunder might have been excused, had its author kept 
it to himself, or been content to consign his doubts to some 
technical periodical. •The discussion between savants would have 
been short and limited to the circle of specialists. Had it 
ended to the advantage of ^Mr. Lbwy, there would alw ays have been 
time to bring the result before the public. But instead of that, 

^ Which is written with a /ifip/i, and not a hcf/i : The most curious 

thinu is, that Mr. Lowy thinks that for tlie forg.*r the word Marhnroth was ]>ronoui!bed 
Marftfiros {■= ^^uchfer^lfi), 'which would betray Ins ( iennan Je wish origin ! Here is a 
worthy Ashkenazi^ well up in the holy boi*ks of C hristian (loims. At the same time, the 
name of is merely borrowed from tlie iusenjition of Ashmuiiazar, as ^ * 

t Mr. Lowy ingenuously adds ; “ It is less likely [I should think so, indee«l !] that the 
name of Mosha, in its signiti cation of ‘ sheep,’ is connected with the Arabic sh/h, of which 
there exists the form maiuhlty a collection of sheep.” Pecidedly Mr. Lowy has no luck 
when he leaves his own native Hebrew ground to make raids on wider Semitic teiTitory. 
The Arabic maodsh (read mairdsht)^ “flocks or herds,” plural of mdshie (literally, “that 
walks ”), has nothing whatever to do with the Arabic shdhy any more, of course, than 
cither one or other with the name of Mcaha. % 



Mr. Lowy has thought fit, at the first onsets to address himself to 
general readers, who are not able to control his assertions, amazing 
them by a display of sensational erudition. He pursues, pleads, 
accuses, condemns without further appeal, and executes. He cannot 
find it amiss that he has been followed on to the ground on which 
he has been pleased to give battle, and he has only himself to thank 
if his rash attacks receive the retort they deserve. There is no 
more harm done to science by believing,r or allowing to be believed, 
the authenticity of a false monument, than by believing and trying 
to make others believe in the falseness of an authentic monument. 
These two kinds of faults call for equal severity in criticism, par- 
ticularly when they have for an acknowledged object and result to 
act less on the rational conviction of savants than on the excitability 
and credulity of public opinion. 

I ask permission, before concluding this article, to recall to memory 
certain ideas I had occasion to expound lately,* upon the material 
form and dimensions of the Moabite Stone — ideas from which we 
may again draw a few fresh though now' almost superfluous argu- 
ments in favour of the authenticity of the monument. 

I have before said that the stela must have been of the ordinary 
shape of Egyptian and Assyrian stelae — a block, the upper part rounded, 
the lower part sqiiare. Of the existence of the rounding of tb»: 
upper part there is no doubt, since the rescued portion of the original 
has preserved this part. As regards the lower part tlierc is less 
certainty. Mr. Klein, who was fortunate enough to see the monu- 
ment before it was broken to pieces by the Bedouins, assures us that 
it was rounded equally top and bottom ; but I am of opinion that 
he is wrong on this point, and that his mistake has been caused 
by the absence of the right-hand corner, which had disappeared in 
conseque^kce of an old breakage. ]My squeeze, representing the 
inscribed surface as Mr. Klein saw it, and Selim^s sketch, f may be 
taken as evidences of this. 

The inscription consists at the present time of thirty-four lines ; 
but, as I have pointed out long ago, there ‘was at least a thirty- 
fifth line ; for the thirty- fourth terminates, at tlic actual lower corner 
to the left, by the word: qaxi, "and I preceded, by the 

disjunctive stroke of the verse, being the obvious commencement of 
another sentence. 

ilt might very possibly be that the stela, so visibly mutilated 
at the lower part, is incomplete in quite unexpected proportions. 

• Thus, the part existing measures about 105 centimetres in height. 
What proof is there that the primitive stela was not, for instance, 
double this height? M’^e are acquainted witli Egyptian and Assyrian 
stelse, of similar shape, whose dimensions in height are much greater ; 

* “La St<Me de M^sa, examen critique du texte.*’ 
f Of which X have published farKimile in the work aliove-meationed. 



it would be interesting to compare in this respect these congenerous 
monuments with ours/and to see what is generally the height in 
proportion to the mean width and thickness. Should this be the 
case, one might be allowed to believe that the primitive stela, con- 
taining an inscription double or more in length that which has 
reached us, may at some time have been either broken in half or cut 
into two or three blocks, and built in, in this state, with the materials of 
some subsequent constructioji. It may be observed that we have not 
found, on any one of the fragments of the lower party any trace of the 
projecting edge which apgari utly framed the whole stelUy and must have 
existed at the lower part as at the upper and the sides. It therefore 
remains to search whether by chance the ruins of Dibon may not 
conceal, buried or built up in some ancient wall, the fragment or 
fragments which, united to that we already possess, would con- 
stitute a truly imposing text, the rescued portion giving us but a 
faint idea of the whole. ^ 

In order that my idea may be better under- 
stood, I illustrate it graphically by a roughly 
sketched diagram : — 

What would then become, on that day, of all 
the card-houses built by Mr. LOwy ? But this 
is only a dream, which may perhaps never be 
realized. Neither is it necessary it should, so 
that we may be delivered from this nightmare 
of forgery, which will henceforth, I trust, only 
trouble the brain where it has taken birth : 
a’yri somnia. 

In any case, I think I have said enough to 
reassure the few whose faith may have been 
shaken by the preposterous doubts of Mr. Lowy. 

I hbpe that, with the most reliable savants, every 
one will persevere in the conviction that tlie 
" Stone of Moab is as tried as the Stone of 
Israel,” and that, although refused by such build- 
ers as Mr. Lowy, it may yet remain by good 
right, for the time being, the headstone of the corner — that is, of 
Semitic epigraphy. 

Ch. Clermont-Ganneau. 

* The adventure would be worth attempting, without counting the chance of a dis- 
covery of some counterpart of the Mo;iinte Stone. The negative results of some 
researches made at Dibon since JS70 are no criterion for the future, lu the place 
where one finds nothing, another finds sometliing. 1 must say a few Wi'rds on 
this point. I have always wondered whether the cur urns bas-relief on basalt, discovered 
by M. de Saulcy at Shihaii, not far from Dilion, to the south of the Amon, and given to 
the Louvre by the Duke de Luynes, does not represent King Mesha in {person, in his 

of conqueror, assisted by Keraoab ; we should then liave there an invaluable figura- 
tion illustrating the Moabite Stone. If so, it might )>erhap 3 be in the vicinity of iShihan 
and Foukou* that it would be advisable to seek for the site of the ancient sanctuary of 
Kerioth, the holy city of Moab. ^ 

A. Thp part of the stone 

actually cxistinsr. 

B. The part possibly missing. 


I GAVE au account, nearly two years ago, in the pages of this 
Review, of the life, work, and influence of John Nelson Darby, 
the founder of the modern sect of the Plymouth Brethren. In the 
course of my narrative I several times mentioned the name of 
Alexander Knox. His was a name and a personality well known to 
the men of the last generation; he was the idol of the early 
Tractarians, the teacher of Charles Kingsley, and the inspircr of 
much of his Christian Platonism ; and yet his name is practically 
unknown and his influence unrecognized by the men of this genera- 
tion. Even forty years ago he wras falling into oblivion. A story 
is currently credited to the late Earl Russell which illustrates this, 
and also proves, if proof were needed, with what ignorance of Irish 
affairs English statesmen of highest station have striven to govern 
Ireland. The present Primate of Ireland rejoices in the same name 
as the hero of this article. He is the Most Rev. Robert Knox, 
Archbishop of Armagh. He is now’ the oldest by consecration of 
the English and Irish prelates, having been aj)pointcd in 1849 
Bishop of Down and Connor, in*succession to Bishop Mant. He was 
then a Whig in politics, and w'as nominated to his See by a Whig 
Government. Soon after his consecration Lord John Russell is 
said to have asked an Irish nobleman of Liberal politics Well, 
what do yon think of your new bishop ? Oh,^^ replied the peer, 

we don’t know much of him yet ; he has not had time to make his 
mark.^^ “ Make his mark ! ” replied the statesman ; why, is he not 
the celebrated Mr. Knox ? And then for the first time he was 
astonished to learn that the celebrated Mr. Knox had been a layman 
all his life, and had been dead for well-nigh twenty years. The 
materials for a Life of Mr. Knox arc numerous enough. Half a 



century ago, and soon after his deaths his thirty years^ correspondence 
with Bishop Jebb saw the light, followed the very next year by four 
large volumes of Kemains. These, with some other sources of infor- 
mation, will furnish us with sufficient matter for a brief account of a 
man notable as a politician at a remarkable period, as a thinker whose 
religious philosophy has produced results undreamt of when first 
enunciated, and above all, as the mediator or channel connecting 
John Wesley and the Wesfeyan movement of the last century with 
the Trartarian movement ^ f the present century, of which latter 
movement, indeed, I consider Alexander Knox the secret, the unac- 
knowledged, but none the less the real fount and origin. 

Alexander Knox was born in 1757. His father and mother, 
direct descendants of the great Scotch Reformer, were people 
of independent property, living near Londonderry, where they 
came under the influence of the Rev. John Wesley in one of his 
numerous visits to Ireland. Young Knoxes health was very pre- 
carious during earlier life ; indeed all through life his existence was 
that of a confirmed invalid. He was afflicted with epileptic fits, 
which intensified a natural repugnance to society and a tendency to 
unhealthy introspection. Wesley recognized his weakness, and 
judiciously strove to correct it in a series of letters (printed at the 
beginning of the fourth volume of Knoxes Remains), marked with 
all that briskness of style and good strong common sense which we 
^fiiid everywhere in Wesley’s correspondence. By nature and by 
education Knox was meditative and serious ; but, according to his 
own narrative as given in a fragmentary diary, after he reached the 
age of manhood he flung himself into ^scenes of dissipation till about 
the year 1707, when he was suddenly recalled to the impressions and 
views of earlier days. With a man so constitutionally inclined to 
melancholy, ever ready to write bitter things against himself, we 
must be always on our guard."*^ Augustine, Bunyan, George Fox, 
Baxter, are notable instances of men who described youthful frolics 
in language suitable to the grossest sins, and Knox seems another 
illustration of the same tendency. •Knox, whatever his moral short- 
comings may have been, fell, however, into what he came to view 
as serious political errors, and formed very dubious political friend- 
ships. The United Irishmen and similar societies exercised, about 
1790, a vast influence and established a wi^e- spread organization 
throughout England as well as Ireland. These societies called them- 
selves by various names, and at first numbered among them some 
of the highest persons in the land. The Duke of Norfolk in England, 
Lord Castlereagh in Ireland, joined their ranks in agitating for Par- 

* Knox suffered from intense nervousness, a disorder which was increased an 
imprudent action on lus own part, with which he ia traditionally credited ; for wbicli, 
however, he could plead the literal words of a saying of our Lord, and the example of 
the greatest scholar and critic among the Fathers.,^ " 




liamentary Reform^ whicH was the first object proposed as their aim. 
It is no wonder, then, that Mr^ Knox, who all throug^h life was a 
Constitutional Whig, should have united himself to these societies, 
from which, however, their bolder measures and wild revolutionary 
projects soon frightened him. He not only left them, but also for a 
time openly joined their opponents, announcing his change in a series 
of letters or essays on The Political Circumstances of Ireland,” 
which saw the light in 1795. These essays explain the change which 
had come over Mr. Knox, and in the light shed by them we can see 
that the step was a very natural one. An Irish gentleman of fair 
landed estate might be a Parliamentary Reformer and an ardent 
friend of freedom in 1790, and yet be a thorough-going supporter of 
the English Government in 1795, for the intervening five years were 
very dreadful ones. The year 1798 is usually esteemed the year of 
the Irish rebellion, but in fact from 1792 the country was in a state 
of open warfare. Presbyterians, Homan Catholics, Episcopalians, 
were all engaged in organizing their forces, arming their adherents, 
and making war upon each other. A camp of 10.000 men was formed 
just outside the Irish metropolis, at Loughlinstown, between Bray and 
Dublin, and upon this camp depended the safety of the Parliament and 
the Lord Lieutenant."^' Police there was none of any value, either in 
the cities or country. The peace of the rural districts dependcfl 
completely upon the exertions of individual magistrates, supported 
by scattered bodies of soldiers, and as the natural result the whole 
country was in a state of civil war. The Roman Catholics assumed 
the name of Defenders, the Protestants that of Pcep-o^-Day Boys. 
The Defenders repeatedly joined issue with the royal troops. The 
state of parts of Ireland, but only of parts, has been of late years 
bad enough ; but what would be thought of even one such incident 
as any of the following? In January, 1793, a body of Defenders 
attacked the 41st Regiment in the county Meath, and a detaihment 
of the same regiment was engaged by them with the greatest fury in 
the country Leitrim. In February a detacliracrit of the 8th Regi- 
ment was attacked at Athboy, and two of the soldiers killed. In 
May, 1794. the Defenders were three days under arms at Kilmaleek, 
in the south of the county Cavan. It is a wild but beautiful district, 
just where the hills of Cavan sink into the plains of Meath, and is 
well known to all students of Swift's Life as the site of Quilca, the 
residence of his friend* Sheridan, to which Swift was wont so often 
to resort. The insurgents laid waste the estates of the Bishop of 
Meath, which adjoined it, plundering and murdering his tenants. The 
county Dublin militia marched to encounter them, whereupon the 

* The site of this camp is now in part occupied by the Ilathdown Workhottse. The 
ontline of some of the squares can still be traced in the lovely glen hard by, called 
** Bride's Glen.” There is a local tradition that James II. encamped on the same spot in 
1^0| the royal tent being placed under an immense tree still flourishing. 



Defenders retired to the town of Ballynaugh, which they fortified 
and held for some time^ till at last the militia set fire to the town^ 
and thus dislodged them with great loss. In August of the same 
year thirty Defenders were killed in an encounter with a party of 
dragoons in the county Roscommon. In May 1795, there were 
battles at Sligo and Tuam between the military and the banditti, 
when thirty of the peasantry were killed at the former place, and 
eighteen killed and a large itumber wounded at the latter ; while, to 
crown the series, on September 21 of the same year the Battle of the 
Diamond was fought in the county Armagh between the Peep-o^-Day 
Boys and the Defenders, when no less than forty-eight of the latter 
were killed, and a great number wounded. Thq^e could have been 
very little security for life or property when such a state of affairs 
prevailed. Alexander Knoxes first literary efforts were directed to 
calm these troubles, and, with this end in view, he appealed in a 
series of letters to all parties, and specially called upon the landlords 
to stand forward and use their influence upon tlie side of law and 
order. His words have a certain prophetic ring about them, and 
show that the inertness and incapacity for self-defence, which have so 
strikingly characterized the Irish landlords of the present time, wfere 
manifested in their ancestors a hundred years ago. Knox (on p. 67 
of his essays on “ The Political State of Ireland draws a picture as 
applicable now as in 1795 : 

‘‘ I ask them, Have the men of property and independence done, in general, 
wliat they owe at once to Government and to themselves? On the contrary, 
have tliey not in too many instances looked ujj to Government as the 
waggoner in tlie iahlo looked up to Jupiter wlieii he expected the aid of 
Heaven without once putting his own sliouluer to the wheel ! ^yhat did the men 
of property throughout the kingdom do ? Did they, as was done in England, 
where the necessity was much less, and as the very practice of their adversaries 
might have suggested, form a constitutional league to counteract the anti- 
constlt|itoijal efforts of tlie lurking traitors, to administer antidotes as fast as 
they uttered poisons, and to meet each stimulus to popular frenzy with an 
equally ardent appeal to reason and to conscience ! On the contrary, were 
not the flying sheets of the enemy, those miasms of mental pestilence, indo- 
lently permitted to make their way to every farm-house and to every cottage, 
and to appear in the view of the multitude, who judge only from appearance, 
unanswerable, because no aiisw'er w^as given them.” 

I have quoted these words, because they show that Mr. Knoxes 
literary efforts, even from a political point of viejr, are worthy of study, 
though it is as a theologian he is best kuown. Knox soon after 
embraced an active political career and became Lord Castlereagh^s 
private secretary in the year 1798. And here as an impartial historian 
I am bound to say that, though Lord Castlereagh^s character has often 
been impugned, and the vilest motives and measures imputed to him, 
yet Kuox, a man of the tenderest, most delicate conscience, and highest 
religious principle, always spoke of h\m and his measures with the 

o2 ’ . 




profoundest respect, the highest approval, a^d the warmest affection. 
Knoxes connection with Castlcreagh did not continue till the year of 
the Union, as he had resigned his position through ill-health before 
that time ; but his testimony as to Lord Castlereagh's conduct during 
the rebellion of 1798 is of the clearest and most decided ^aracter. 
AVhat can be higher praise than the following passage, selected from 
a letter * to a friend named Schoales.t describing his own life as a 
private secretary. After noticing variouys advantages he possessed, 
Knox then proceeds : 

But this is not nil, I am gratified at being singled out as tlie confidential 
friend of the honestest and perhaj)s the ablest statesman that has been in 
Ireland for a century. I know of him what the wf»rld does not and cannot 
know, and what‘, if if did know, it most probably would not believe. Ills 
letters to England on the critically important business of tliis country pass 
through my liands ire.jiiently ; and I am strongly inclineil to think that to them 
we greatly owe the ]‘rom['titude of England to assist us. Humane he is, and 
good-natured beyond tlu* usual standard of men. Jn him it is not merely a 
habit or a natural quality, but it is a moral duty. And yd, Avhen firm de- 
cision is requisite lu* can well f^xert it. There is no Idooddicd for which ho 
does not grieve, and yet ho has no tendency to injudicious mercy.” 

^Thc whole of the passage from wdiich T have made this extract is 
well deserving of careful attention at a time wlicn Ijord {histicrengh V 
character and acljicveinonts are nmlorgoing a severe storm 
criticism. J Mr. Knox’s political career soon terminated. Nature, 
indeed, had not cut him out for a statesman : his licaith was too 
delicate, his ideas far too speculative for tlie business of j»olitical life, 
where a man must look not so much at wdiat is tlK'orctically right 
and desirable, as at what is practically attainable, ami w lure, therefore, 
unsatisfactory rm;kc-sliifts miWc c^ften take the jdaec? of matured and 
reasonable schemes. Mr. Knoxks views on politic^ c\ct remained 
true to genuine Whig i)riuci])Ics. lie continued to advocate Roman 
Catholic cniaiicipation, the moderate endowimmt of the Iris^jjj^ricst- 
hooii — the only plan wliicli could have secured social peace in 
Ireland; while as io foreign affairs he tvas a severe critic of Pittas 

* ‘•Remains,” v(»l. iv. j*. , 

t Mr. Sclinnit'S coiitril-nttMl somo most inlrrcsting facts alnnU Knox's life and his 
convcT-sational |jo\v<*!3, iir m hich lie* »i\ ailed (’uleridgc, to the ttnlnance Survey “Memoir 
of Loiulomu-ny, ’ ]•:) 7 '5, 74, U<;, <i7. 

t L(md (^iiytlcrr* \ :)) wislu-l Knox to write the ITi«.torv of the Eniou. In a letter tc^ 
Knox, dated MaiL'li .'JO. l-^ll * Remains/' iv. ."i.’ilt), ho writes ‘ I’he demons of the 
present day are at '.Mnk fc iiiako those who carried lie- I'nion odious, as first having 
cruelly ojefre‘«Red and thr u rold their omintry. 1 don't hin>w wliether the moment is 
yet come for givin;/ 1o tio* niipire a ternfierate histoM- of these great events (the 

Rebellion .ari<i tin* Enioni, htnpiied r.f tlie vinilcii* e which chariietenzes Musgrave and 
Duigenan on tin oru- li'unl, and IMovvdeii ami liju niiiton on the other 1 wish you would 
turn this sugge-iimi in y<*nr mind. I know no jierson ho cfjiial to it as yourself. Such 
a work is csstnti d to tlu* jiiihhc interest; I had .'ilinost s-anl to the public safety.” 
Again : “I feel confident that the iiitenthms of the (iovernmeiit for the public good, at 
that time, will he u* the striobst scrutiny. 1 believe th»‘ir measures, when fairly ex- 
plained, will stand ^ fjuallythc* test of cnticiMin ; whilst in the conduct of the Union 
they pursued honestly the interests of Ireland, yielding not more to private interests 
than was requisite to di6.irm so nnghty a change of any convulsive character.” 



policy, and entirely diaapproved of the funding system and the 
creation of a national debt^ which rendered war popular, because its 
burden was unfelt. Surely the following passage, culled from a 
letter * written to his friend Sehoalesin 1797, breathes the very spirit 
of Mr. Bright or Mr. Gladstone : 

In my mind the groat foible in the English character has been a passion 
lor war. The great reason of this was the funding system, which made it 
practicable to raise money wlSiout sensible burdens. * The cure for this 
national pride, this rageful a})petence for glory and coii(|Ucst, will be to let the 
jjoople feel the full ex]»ensfi of Jie bloody game. After tliis they will be the 
less disposed to provoke warfare, when they have experienced the effects at 
their firesides, which they now never do.’' 

Alexander Knoxes real claim to fame rests, however, not on his 
political views, no matter how true and how prophetic, but upon his 
religious teaching, which was strikingly in advance of liis times, and 
sounded the first note of a movement which has changed the face of 
the English Church. lie was a religious mystic, too, when mysticism 
was utterly foreign to the spirit of the age. lie was a High Chiirch- 
niaii, of the school of 13r. Liddou perhaps, rather than of Dr. 
Puscy, and that iu a time — the age of Lord Eldon — when the term 
High diurchmau connoted violent Tory politics rather than any 
kind of theology wliatcver. Let us hear his own defiiiition of his 
jKJsition iu the year 180<3.t He liad been invited to write an 
article for the Erfrr/ic Ilerti //?, but had some doubts on the matter, 
which he thus exiilains to a friend : 

Th^' iruiii is, those men arc Di^sonters chiofly, and also what is 

called evaiigf iical. iS’ow, I am a C'hiirchmaii in grain — not a Tory Churchman, 
lor that is a dis<a>c: in the ('huich, not its cuiistitutJoiial turn ; nor yet a 
'Whig Cliurclunan, for thfy did not value enough the diblinguishing features 
of our E^tal»IJshmel]t. But, if J may u>e the t(*rm, 1 am a primitive Church- 
Jiiaii ; prizing in our system, most cordially, what it has retained from Chris- 
tian ai^i: Lilly, as well as ^^llal it has gained irom the good sense of the 
Koformors in expurgating it Irom J.iter abuses. But the truth is, I am not one 
whit Puritanic. 1 love E}/isco]»aey — the surplice, festivals, the communion- 
tablc set altar-wdsc, aiitijdional devotions — /.t\, versiclo aiul response; and 1 
am somewhat un-l^uritanic in doctrine too, being much more engaged by the 
sublime piety of .St. Chrysostom than by the devotional dogmas of St. Austin 
or any of his followers.’’ 

This passage, contrasted with another hereafter to be quoted from bis 
correspondence witbBisliop Jebb, in which he foreshadows the influence 
of the modern High Church school on public Vorship in its external 
aspect, seems to show a mind occupying exactly the position taken 
up thirty years later by the Oxford Tractarians. 

Now, for the philosophic student of history the most interesting 
point about Alexander Knox is this, that he himself traces all these 
mental movements of his to the teaching of John Wesley, so that 
* “ IteiiiainB,” iv. 20. * f ]bul, iv. 206. 




we should attribute the fatherhood of the Oxford movement, not to 
Hugh James Bose^ or Pusey,* Newman — all of 1f|^m were mere 

xedpients and transmitters of mental forces evolved their time 
■^but rather to the ^at evangelist of the last eentaiy | it in 

bibUeal phraseology, Wesley b^at Knox, and* . ^ Jebb, 
and Jebb b^t Bose and Pusey and Newman, aia^diim strikes 
the casual ireadsr^ very strange, becausb the mbd^^ 
denouneehstibe sdbngest Imiguage the Hi||h Church moveas^t, though 
they have themselves been most profoundly affected by it; ' A Wes- 
leyan of Adam darkens or Jabez Bunting's day would scarcely 
recognize in the Gothic chapels and choral services and correct eccle- 
siastical costume of modern Wesley anism a vestige of the very plain 
society in which they ministered. These things are all due to the 
Oxford movement ; and yet it is no unfamiliar phenomenon to see 
large bodies influenced more by their opponents than by their friends* 
It is not the Tories alone who steal the clothes of their opponents 
and masquerade in them. But when one looks deeper than the out- 
side, as Alexander Knox did, one can see abundant germs cf the 
modern movement in \Veslcy*s teaching. There is one great mistake 
made by men who view the revival of the last century ffou* the 
outside. They confound the party of Wesley ^uth that of Whitefichl 
under one common head, and imagine that they were both actuated by 
one and the same spirit. This is a great mistake, and one, too, into 
which such a keen investigator as Mr. Lccky has fallen in his History of 
England. The Methodist revival of the last century was divided 
into two great sections diametrically opposed to each other : White- 
field's party was Calvinistic and Puritan, Wesley’s party was Arminian 
Anglican and Sacramental. These parties fouglit, and* fought most 
bitterly, during Wesley’s life. They remained opposed after his death, 
and they produced results which remain opposed to the present day, 
though, like the Wcsleyaiis themselves, the outward form aUd dress 
of the contending parties have very considerably changed. This 
position could be amply vindicated, and is weli known to every diligent 
student of Wesley's writings. As it is unknown, however, to the 
general public, and yet bears very directly upon the course of our 
narrative, a short space must be devoted to it. 

The Calvinistic controversy raged with great violence from the 
year 174f) till 1770. Wesley took the Arminian side; Wbitefield, 
Lady Huntingdon, and their friends took the extreme Calvinistic 
side. About the year 1770 Wesley determined to make a formal 

* Comparatively few persons are aware that Dr. Pusey was a stem opponent of Hugh 
James Rose and the lirst attcmj)ts at Church revival. In 1828 he published a severe 
attack on Rose, as abandoning “the fundamental princijdes of Protestantism,” and an 
enthusiastic defence of German I'rotestaiitism, entitled “An Historical Inquiiy into the 
Probable Causes of the Rationalist Cliaracter lately predominant in the Theology of 
Germany, by E. B. Pusey, M.A., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford.” This was his first 
fonnal work. • 



public pronouncement pn the question ; so he summoned a conference 
of his preachers to Bristol, where he put forward a. series of proposi- 
tions rejecting Calyinism in all its forms and dogmas, and. enunciating 
a of justification identical with that Ball^ Jeremy 

Taylorfand the great AngUcan divines of the seventeentii aeatury, 
as wdl as by modem High Churchmen. This theory- set 
ibrth in a question and answer of the Larger Minutes, whi<^ are still 
one of the stwdards of?*Wesleyanism in all its branch^.^ A 
quarrel at once burst forth^ which equalled in bitterness any that 
ever troubled and disgraced Christendom. On one side stood Lesley 
and the saintly Fletcher of Madely. On the other were arrayed 
Berridge, Rowland Hill and his brother, Toplady, and a host of 
others. Both sides soon waxed furious, but AYesley had this great 
advantage, he had a better command over his temper than his 
opponents over theirs. His effusions were, however, very often 
short, sharp, witheringly contemptuous. What could be more so 
than Wesley^s remark, when challenged to reply to an attack of 
Toplady : I do not fight with chimney-sweeps — a sentence which, 
sharp as it may seem, was fully justified by the lampoons upon 
Wesley which filled the pages of the Gospel Magazine, edited 
by the author of the immortal hymn, Eock of Ages.^^ It will give 
my readers some idea of the bitterness which this controversy evoked 
if I quote a few stanzas from a poem which appeared in that magazine 
in 1777, under the suggestive title, The Serpent and the Fox ; or, 
an interview between Old Nick and Old Johu/^ The whole effusion, 
as printed in Knox’s edition of Southey ^s Wesley, p. 380, would 
take up quite too much space. A few stanzas, however, will give the 
reader a sufficient idea of the bitter feeling which existed from 1770 
to 1880 between the Calvinistic Evangelicals and the Arminian 
Wesleyans. Tlje idea of the poem is, that Old Nick, or the Devil, 
pays Old John, or John Wesley, a visit, when a dialogue ensues : 

* This important r{uestion will be found in vol. viii. p. 337, of Wesley's Works, ed. 
1872. As it bears directly nj>oii the devciopiuciit of religious thought in this century 
■we append it, simply remarking that the ^^luutes of all Wesleyan Conferences, since the 
first assembly, have been drawn up in the shape of question and answer : — “We said in 
1744 we have leaned too much towards Calvinism. Wherein? — Answer; (1) With 
regard to man’s faithfulness ; (2) with icgaid to -w’orking for life, which our Lord ex- 
pressly commands us to do; (3)w^e have received it as a maxim, that a man is to do 
nothing in order to justitication. ^Notliing can be more false. Whoever desires to find 
favour with God should cease from evil and loam to do well. Whoever repents should 
do works meet for repentance. And if this is not in order to find favour, what does he 
do them fur ? Once more review the whole ai{i|ir — *.^1} Who of ns is now accepted with 
God? He that now believes in Ch list with a loving, obedient heart. (2) But who 
among those that never heard of Christ ? He that, according to the light he has. feareth 
(4od and worketh righteousness. (3) Is this the same with he that is sincere ? Nearly, 
if not quite. (4) Is not this salvation by works? Not by the merit of works, but by 
works as a condition. As to merit, of which we have been so dreadfully afraid, we are 
rewarded according to our works — yea, because of our works. How docs this difier 
from ‘for the sake of our works?’ and how differs this from ttecnmlum nurila opentm ? 
Can you split this hair ? I doubt I cannot.” (Cf. Williams’ ” Polity of AVesleyan 
Methodism,” p. 266, ed. London, 1880.) 



Tliere’s a fox who resideth hard by, 

« The moat perfect and holy and sly • 

That e'er turned coat or could pilfer and lie. 

** As this reverend Reynard one day 
Sat thinking what game best to play, 

Old Nick came a seasonable visit to pay. 

“ O your servant, my friend, quoth the Priest, 

Though you carry the mark of the beast, 

1 never shook paws with a welcoiiier guest. 

“ Many thanks, holy man, cried tbw‘ J’icnd, 

It was because you're my very gooa frioiid 

That I dropt in, with you a few minutes to si>ead.*’ 

Wesley and the Devil then proceed to discuss the Calvinists^ and 
Wesley suggests that they should rouse a public persecution of them. 
Wesley then introduces the case of Whitcficld : 

As for Whitelield, 1 know it right well. 

He has sent down his thousands to liell. 

And, for aught that I know, he's gone with them to dwell.” 

To which charitable suggestion the Devil replies : 

“ I grant, my friend John, for ’tis true. 

That he w«as not so ]>erfect as you ; 

Yet, confound him, 1 lost him,* for all 1 could do.’* 

But I am sure my readers have had quite enough of such doggerel, 
which has, however, a practical interest, for it proves conclusively that, 
bitter as controversies, political or religious, may have been iii our 
own time, they have never reached the pitch of bitterness attained 
among men whom superficial thinkers class as all forming one iiaxty, 
actuated by the same motives, teaching the same doctrines, and 
producing the same results. But the most important point about 
this Bristol Conference and its rejection of the Lutheran view of 
justification, and the adoption, instead, of tlie seventeenth -century 
or Anglican view is this, that Knox fully adopted Wesley^s theory, 
made it the basis of all his teacliing, and transmitted it to the Oxford 
Tractarians. These statements admit of tlic fullest demonstration, 
which would, however, require very lengthy extracts from the four 
volumes of Knoxes Remains, and the two volumes of his Correspon- 
dence with Bishop Jebb. Oj:ie quotation must suffice. To men of this 
generation the name of Adam Clarke is now liccoming unknown, 
though few stories are more stimulating to easy-going students than 
that of the young Irish lad who one hundred years ago began the 
life of a laborious and poorly paid Methodist j)reacher, and yet found 
time to become one of the piost learned Orientalists of his day. 
Knox had been the friend and patron of Clarke in his earliest age, 
both coming from the same district of Ulster, and the friendship thus 
begun in youth survived all external changes till old age had over- 
taken them. In the third volume of Knoxes Remains there will 
be found a letter from him to Dr. Adam Clarke, marked by views 
which seem to me almost prophetic when we recollect the spirit of 



the time. To the ordinary old-fashioned High Churchman of that 
day Wesley and Methodism were simply ideas associated with every- 
thing that was objectionable^ wildly enthusiastic^ and contrary to soimd 
Church principles. By the High Churchman of the present age no 
name is more frequently lauded and no example more frequently 
cited than that of John Wesley. And not at all illogically^ for Knox 
clearly predicts this revolution, and manifests the clear vision he 
possessed of the ulterior /^^rection of principles and teaching which 
superficial observers mistal e or entirely miss. I would ask special 
attention to the following brief extract from this letter to Adam 
Clarke : * 

“In a word, I consider John Wesley as promulgating in his latter days, 
above all uninspired men who have gone before him, Christianity in all its 
efiicacy, and yet in all its amiability.t On this ground he appears to me the 
first competent unveiler of that concentration of the evangelic rays which has 
been so wonderfully (and I w-ould venture to say exclusively) insphered in our 
established liturgy. And I trust the time will yet come, and that it is not^t any 
very great distance (though I confess as yet I see no* sign of its approach), 
when the providential deposit which distinguishes the Church of England will 
be rightly appreciated ; and Mr. Wesley's designation as the precursive 
announcer of its hitherto undeveloped excellences, wdllbe fully understood and 
adequately recognized.” 

Alexander Knox’s agreement with John Wesley, thus depicted by 
himself, was not confined to any minor details. They agreed on all 
fundamental questions. The leading points round which controversy 
has raged for the last hundred years are — Justification and Sanctifica- 
tion, their nature and cflects ; the two sacraments of Holy Communion 
and Baptism ; the Christian priesthood, tlie Eucharistic sacrifice, and 
the best methods of promoting spiriiual life — on all of which Knox 
and Wesley symbolized with the great Caroline divines on the one side, 
and the early Tractariaiis on the other, as opposed to Whitefield and 
the modern Evangelical party. Let us take the question of Justifica- 
tion, where a few quotations — somewhat dry it may be, but still most 
interesting from a philosophic point of view — will prove my case up 
to the hilt. Knox completely adopted W^esley's later views, which 
were those of Jeremy Taylor and Bull. Wesley's earlier views were 
pure, simple, naked solifidianism. Knox avows in his letter to 
Clarke his agreement with the Bristol Minutes, to which I have 
already called attention, where Bull's teaching is substantially adopted 
and defended. Let us listen to Knox in this letter to Dr. Adam 
Clarke : t 

“ In Mr. Wesley’s latter days he urged those noble principles (/.<?., the^ 
practical identification of justification and sanctification) with moie entire 

* “ Kemains,” iii. 489. 

t Knox would have agreed with Keble’s ])reface to the "Christian Year,” where he 
speaks of " the soothing tendency ” of the English Prayer Book. Both disliked the 
minatory and terrifying character of Calvinism. 

+ “Remains,” iii. 481. 



freedom and more enga/^ing simplicity. It would seem that on the 1st of Decem- 
ber, 1767, a new light broke in upon his mind. On grounds which appeared 
clear as the day he puts the question : If so, what becomes of the articulus 
stantis vel cadent is ecclesia ? and gives the strongest possible answer in the 
next significant query : If so, is it not high time for us 

“Projicere ampullas et sesquij^edalia verba,** 

and to return to the plain words, ‘ He that feareth God and worketh righteous- 
ness is accepted with Him ? * Ilenco, I conceive, proceeded thq well-known 
Minutes of 1770.’’ 

He then proceeds to compare Wesley with Chrysostom, whose 
counterpart in the Anglican Church he considered Wesley to have 
been. Chrysostom, in fact, among the ancients, and Wesley 
among the moderns, were the writers wdiom Knox valued the 
most. Upon Chrysostom, indeed, he lavishes all the wealth of his 
copious imagination. When he wishes to show how different the 
Calvinistic Evangelicals of his time were from the Fathers and from 
the true doctrine of the Church of England, he selects the com- 
mendation passed upon St. Chrysostom in the First Homily as that 
great clerk and godly preacher,^^ comparing it w ith the Calvinistic 
Milner’s estimate, as set forth in his Church History,’^ which regards 
him as lamentably ignorant of the true Gospel. He commends 
Chrysostom’s treatise on the Priesthood to another correspondent, 
and finds in Chrysostom’s writings the very religion wdiich the Church 
of England exemplifies in her services. St. Chrysostom’s theory of 
justification he regarded as identical with that of Wesley’s, announced 
in the Bristol Minutes, and both as opposed to that popularly 
preached by the Calvinists of his day. In a letter to Mrs. Hannah 
More — one of his most favourite correspondents — written in 1807, he 
says that ^^the common method of stating Justification as depending 
wholly on our blessed Saviours merits, and resting in no respect on 
moral qualities in us, is the grand error of the present religious 
world/^ While, again, in a formal treatise on Justification, written to 
a Mr. Parken in 1810, he identifies Baptism and Justification, and 
asserts that in the judgment of the Church — »ancient and Anglican 
alike — every one baptized in infancy commences life in a justified 
state.” I have insisted on this point at some length, because it is 
absolutely necessary, if we are to trace the filiation of thought and 
doctrine which connects Wesley and J. H. Newman as he stood in 
1840, that this point of- Justification be placed in the very forefront, 
because the Justification controversy raged during the whole period. 

, And now that I have named John Henry Newman, we may take his 
writings as the amplest confirmation of the theory 1 have been 
urging. In the spring of 1838 he published his Lectures on Justifi- 
cation " as a manifesto on the question which then, as sixty years 

* Letter to Dr, Woodward : “ Keiaaiiis,’* iii. 45. 



earlier, was considered the most important in ihe whole range of 
theological science. These lectures upheld the theory of Bull and 
Jeremy Taylor; and there, in the very *¥orefront of the lectures, in 
the preface to the first edition, we have Mr. Knoxes views on justifica- 
tion referred to> while, again, in the Appendix he is quoted as supporting 
Newman^s doctrine in the following words : 

“ Our being reckoned righteous coram Beo always and essentially implies a 
substance of righteousness** previously implanted in us, and our reputative 
justification is the strict and inseparable result of this previous moral justifica- 
tion. I mean that the reckoning us righteous indispensably presupposes an 
inward reality of righteousness on Avhich this reckoning is founded.” 

These Lectures on Justification are all deserving of careful study, 
especially the closing one, On Preaching the Gospel,*' where 
Newman shows, in language and by arguments which frequently 
recur in Knoxs writings, tliat the Calvinistic scheme of a purely 
forensic justification must end in the complete and utter ruin of 
the interior spiritual life, and makes religion as completely an 
external thing — a mere matter of correct views and orthodox opinion, 
without any real relation to the souFs life — as the most formal and 
unspiritual scholasticism had ever done. In fact, Wesley, Knox, 
and Newman would have agreed in the verdict of an acute critic upon 
Scottish Calvinistic preaching of sixty years ago, that one wonders, 
after hearing such divines expound the plan of salvation, why one 
should not at once employ an attorney to carry out the whole trans- 
action, it was so thoroughly legal. 

1 have thus proved by extracts and references that, so far as the 
question of J ustificatiou is concerned, Knox was the mediator between 
Wesley and Newman. I must now hurry on to other points of a 
very extensive subject. 

After Justification comes the Sacramental question. Here, again, 
Wesley was one source whence, through Knox, the Tractarians derived 
their sacramental doctrines. Wesley, as all know, held what would 
now be called high sacramental dogmas. He held baptismal regenera- 
tion it its clearest and plainest form. His treatise on Baptism, 
published in 175G, when he was in the full maturity of his powers 
and activity, » amply proves this, for there he states, in language which 
the highest Churchman will accept and use : By water, then, as a 
means — the water of baptism — we are regenerated or born again, 
whence it is also called by the Apostle the washing of regeneration. 
Herein a principle of grace is infused which will not be wholly taken 
away unless we quench the Holy Spirit of God by long-continued 
wickedness.^^ It is sometimes urged that Wesley ^s high sacramental 
theories were only the results of early Oxford influences, disappearing 
when he threw himself into active evangelistic effort. This tract on 
Baptism proves the contrary. When he wrote it he was well past 



middle life: he had been nearly twenty y€;^.rs engaged in his 
evangelistic efforts ; he had j>a8sed through many phases of doctrine, 
had leaned too much towH^ds Calvinism/' as he himself puts it ; had 
held exaggerated and even Antinomian views as regards justification ; 
and now, in 1756, Wesley falls back upon his earliest doctrines as 
affording the surest ground for definite practical appeal to the indi- 
vidual conscience. 

Wesley held similar ideas with respect tc the Holy Communion. 
The strongest proof of this fact is Wesley^s own teaching. He pub- 
lished a tract on the Duty of Constant Communion in 1733, which 
he reprinted in 1788, just fifty-five years later, in which he lays down 
the duty of weekly and saints^ days celebrations, and sets forth at 
large the grace and blessings attending the Eucharist. To this 
tract he puts tlie following significant and crucial note, which ought 
to silence the boldest objector who holds that Wesley changed his 
views in this respect : — Tlie following discourse was written five-and- 
fifty years ago for the use of my pupils at Oxford. I have added 
very little, but retrenched much, as I then used more words than 1 
do now. But I thank God I have not yet seen cause to alter my 
sentiments in any point which is therein delivered. — J. W.^^ But wc 
have even stronger evidence as to his doctrine on this subject. He 
republished a treatise on the Holy Sacrament originally composed 
by Dean Brevint,* where in one chapter he deals with the sacrificial 
aspect of the Holy Communion, and appends a large collection of 
hymns for the eucharistic service, of which inodoni High Churchmen 
make a very free and copious use. Mr. Sadler, for instance, has 
published a Eucharistic IMauual, which has a very large circulation. 
In the first part of it there is a week^s preparation for the sacred rite, 
consisting of Scripture readings, hymns and prayers. Almost all 
these hymns are drawn from "*Veslcy^s collection. The title-page of 
the last edition of his Eucharistic Manual published in Wesley's 
lifetime tells us that it had been seven times republished, and was 
sold at all his preaching-houses both in town and country. Is it 
not significant that it was never ropublished till* Dr. Osborn tinted 
it in his collected edition of the Poetical Works of J ohn and Charles 
Wesley, some few years ago ? Wesley in those hymns taught the very 
highest doctrine, and used language quite consistent with consubstan- 
tiation, if not with trausuhstantiation. Thus 1 take as a specimen 
Hymn No. 57 in Dr. Osbornes third volume, and what do we read? — 

“ O the depth of love divine, 

• Tir unfathomable grace, 

Who shall say how bread and wine 
God into man conveys ; 

* is one of the divines quoted in Tract 81, furnishing, with Mods and Jeremy 
Taylor; the longest quotations on the doctrine of t)ie Eucharistic sacrifice. (Cf. Urliu^s 
“ Life rfWesley,” pp. 60, 283.) 



Ho\r the bread Hia flesh imparts, * 

* How the wine transmits His blood, 

Fills His faithful people^s hearts 
With all the Life of God. 

, Let the wisest mortal show 
How we the grace receive ; 

Feeble elements bestow 
A power not theirs to give. 

Who explains the wondrous why — 

How through these the virtue came ? 

Thesr the virtue did convey, 

\ et still remain the same. 

I think I need offer no further proof that, as regards the two^ 
sacraments^ Wesley held decidedly High doctrines. These doctrines 
Alexander Knox adopted in his writings. Let us first take the case 
of Baptism, on which he wrote a formal treatise, found in the first 
volume of his Remains, entitled The Doctrine respecting Baptism 
held by the Church of England, where lie seems to borrow even the 
very language of Mr. Wesley’s treatise. On p. 454 of the volume just 
referred to, he considers the case of Infant Baptism, aud expressly 
declares that the formularies of the Church of England assert that 
all infants who are baptized infallibly participate in the inward and 
spiritual grace which the sacrament of Baptism is intended to convey ; ” 
and as to the nature of this grace, he is no less explicit, but uses words 
which seem taken from Wesley, defining it as a vital germ of all 
virtuous dispositions and pious affections, implanted in the mind of 
the baptized infant — a germ, however, which will not grow up of 
itself, but which will expand under culture, if not blighted in the 
opening by that perverseness whicli, on the supposition of free 
agency, must necessarily be incidental.” Mr. Knox’s theory of the 
Holy Communion was no less similar to Wesley’s. It was em- 
bodied in his treatise On the Use and Import of the Eucharistic 
Symbols/’ written iu 182o, just the year before the first publication 
of the Christian Year.” The prefatory letter prefixed thereto, and 
addressed to his frieud Ylr. J. S. Harford, is worth study. It recalls 
the writings, the teaching, the expressions of Dr. Littledale rather 
than those of the* Georgian epoch.* Knox regards the Marian 
persecution as a providential deliverance of the Church of England from 
extreme Protestantism ; lie. depreciates Cranmer s views and mental 
character, as utterly wanting iu stability, in taste, and elevation of 
spirit ; ” he laments the loss of the first Prayer-book of Edward VI. ; 
he approves Laudas Scotch Prnyer-book *of 1637, and claims the 
action of the Restoration revisers as all in favour of those higher 
doctrines which prevailed in King Edward^s First Book. This lattter 

♦ Thus, in a letter to Jebb, dated January o, 1813, Knox ("Correspondence,” ii. 125) 
says : " “V^at^erverse influence the nickname of Protestant has had on our Church ! 
Ever since this epithet became fashionable its vulgar definition has bad more authority 
with Churchmen themselves than all the settled standards to which they were bound 
and the consequence has been a steady increase of ignorance, coldness, aud vacillation.” 



view, which some* regard, as a purely modern discovery, first worked 
out and elaborated in No. 81 of ^'Tracts for the Knox 

expressly set forth so far hack as the year 1816, when, in a letter 
dated Bellevue, June 4, on thp situation and prospects of the 
Established Church, he writes thus about the results of 1662 : 

A revision of the Liturgy being called for, the revisers seized the oppor- 
tunity to make our formularies, not more Puritar/ic, but more catholic. They 
effected this without doubt stealthily, and to appearance' by the minutest 
alteration ; but to compare the^Communion Service as it now stands, especially 
its rubrics, with the form in which we find it previously to that transaction, 
will be to discover that, without any change of features which could cause 
alarm, a new spirit was then breathed into our Communion Service, principally 
by a few significant circumstances, in the manner of conducting the business, 
which were fitted to impress the devout, though certain to be fully under- 
stood only by the initiated.^* 

Knox in his other writings adopts Wesley^s sentiments. In a letter 
to Mr. J. S. Harford, dated 1814 Remains,” iii. 281), he expounds 
" certain gr^at truths dwelt upon in the Epistle to the Ephesians,” 
prominent among which he puts, like Wesley and Bre^int, the 
sacrificial aspect of the Eucharist, asking on p. 255 the pertinent 
question : Is it not curious that, in exact proportion as the 

notion of strict catholicity has been dropped, the sacrificial idea 
of the Lord^s Supper has been also abandoned ? ” lie consequently 
asserts the reality and necessity of the Christian priesthood as 
plainly as Wesley did in his famous Cork sermon on the text. 

No man taketh to himself this honour, save he that is called of 
God, as was Aaron ; ” and with respect to the nature of Christ s 
presence, expresses himself in thu Eucharistic treatise in language 
approximating more closely to consubstantiation than even Wesley's. 
I have insisted at some length on this point, because the question 
of dates is very important. Language similar to Knox’s abounds 
among the divines of the seventeenth century, and was universal 
among the Nonjurors. But a simple instance will show holv 
rare — nay, we might almost say how extinct— v-it was among the 
writers of Wesley’s day. Tract No. 81, already referred to, sets 
forth a catena of writers of the later English Church, testifying to 
the doctrine of the Eucharistic Sacrifice, and the only persons of 
ecclesiastical position whom its author could discover as teaching 
it in ever so slight a degree during the reign of George III., 
were the compilers of the American Prayer-book — where the Non- 
juring element had a certain influence — Bishop Horsley, Bishop Jolly 
of the Scotch Episcopal Church, and Archdeacon Daubeny ; and none 
of them stated this doctrine with anything like the force and vigour 
shown by John Wesley, and Knox, the Irish disciple of JAn Wesley. 

The filiation of thought, again, which connects Wesley, Knox, and 
the modem High Church movement, is demonstrated in the simplest 



and most popular shapQ by what one might call their view of interior 
religion, and their counsels for its culture and development. They 
all recommended the same books — the spiritual writings of the great 
Anglican divines, Jeremy Taylor, and the Cambridge Platonists ; they 
all favoured mysticism and mystic poetry to a large degree ; and they 
all approved works like ScougaPs "Life of God in the Soul of 
man,” Worthington " On Resignation,” Lucases " Inquiry after 
Happiness,” and Roman. Catholic writers of an interior kind, like 
Thomas h Kempis, M. Dc Renty, Francis de Sales, Cardinal Bona, 
and Nicholl. Wesley * all his life was pursued with accusations of a 
Rome-ward tendency, because he reprinted several of the devotional 
works of these latter writers for the use of his followers. About 
the year 1750 there was a very angry controversy between him and 
Bishop Lavington of Exeter, when the Bishop hurled this accusation 
at Wesley because he had published De Renty^s Life and De Sales’ 

Introduction to a Holy Life.” Knox, in a long and interesting 
letter to Hannah More on the design of Providence respecting the 
Christian Church, reproduces the same idea. This letter was written 
in December 1806, and there he notices the want of interior ex- 
perience and of depth in the ordinary Protestant and Calvinistic 
teaching. His notion seems to be that Protestantism has produced 
a good deal of average morality, but has been deficient in saints and 
saintliness. He recommends and praises the very same writers as 
Wesley— k Kempis, De Sales, De Renty. Yet he was not one whit 
inclined towards the Roman Catholic Church, though he could 
appreciate its strong points. Thus he remarks as one providential 
object of that Church: "Doubtless the Romish Church is like a 
garden overrun with weeds, neither pleasant to the eye nor good 
for food ; but then there are in this garden some old fruit trees 
which bear fruit of extraordinary mellowness.” And he anticipates 
that one day his own loved Church, which possesses exactly the same 
interior spirit in its Liturgy, will display the same tone of " pure self- 
denying, soul-elevating piety.” ("Remains,'* iii. 1 10.) I will not enter 
upon an inquiry so lar-reaching as an attempt to determine how far 
Knox’s ideal has been realized in the modern Church of England. 
It is, however, certain that a deeper, more spiritual, and experimental 
tone of preaching has taken the place of the very dry and legal 
teaching of his own day, which Knox so often laments ; while as for 
his favourite authors, a glance at any list of High Church devotional 
books will show what a copious use has been made of both classes of 
writers affected by himself and by Wesley, the great Anglican 
divines and Roman Catholics like h Kempis and De Sales. I 

* All these writers, Jeremy Taylor included, taught a doctrine of Christian perfection 
identical with Wesley’s. Knox defended Wesley’s views on Perfection, (“fomains,” 
iii. 221-230; “Correspondence,” i. 134, 142; ii. 518.) 


might pursue this inquiry into minor branches of a subject which 
would yield the same result. 1 can now^ however^ only notice that 
Wesley in his Larger Minutes advocates ascetic practices for his 
{ureachers — ^prayers, meditations, and, above all, fasting — ^regular, syste- 
matic and scrupulous — which finds as large a place in his counsels of 
perfection as in those of a modem High Church Retreat. He did, 
not, too, confine this rule to his preachers. A letter to an Irish cor- 
respondent, dated London, October 23, 179G,,a8 Mr. Tyerman (Wesley’s 
Life, iii. 630) puts it, shows that " the Methodist sin of neglect- 
ing fasting is not of recent growth,” for there he writes : Exhort all 
our brethren steadily to wait upon God in the appointed means of 
fasting and prayer, the former of which has been almost universally 
neglected by the Methodists both in England and Ireland. .But it 
is a true remark of Kempis, The more thou denicst thyself, the more 
thou wilt grow in grace.” 

The most striking point of contact, however, between Wesley and 
the Tractarian movement remains to be mentioned. They both held, 
contrary to all Protestant prejudice, the use of prayers for the 
dead, according to Primitive Church doctrine. Every person knows 
that the early Tractarians, amid a howl of opposition, first recalled 
the public mind to the fact that the Church of England has never 
^included this practice in the list of abuses by her repudiated. Tract 
No. 72 is devoted to this subject, and will even yet repay perusal, as 
practically nothing has been added to it by later discussions#* Even 
in this dogma, which I suppose his modern followers — at least those 
who call themselves by his name — would most heartily repudiate ; 
even in this, Wesley agreed, and furnished the ])riacip]es developed 
eighty years later. My proof is ’easy enough, for I find that Bishop 
Lavington in 1750 reproached him for holding what he calls the 
Popish doctrine of prayers for the dead, to which IVesley vigorously 
replies in words which prove the profound reverence this great 
evangelist ever manifested towards primitive antiquity : 

** Your fourth argument is, that in a collection of prayers I cite the words 
of an ancient liturgy ‘for the faithful departed.’ Sir, wiienever I use those 
words in the Burial Service I pray to the same ofFect, ‘ that we, with all those 

* Knox did not write much v^n the Intermediate State. We tind, liowe%'er, an ex- 
tremely interesting and acute letter on that subject, dated March 24, 182.5, in his 
“ Kemains,’' iv. 417, wherein he maintains that the hlo-ssod dead intercede in Paradise 
for the living, and are acquainted with terrestrial matters, h'roin another letter^ dated 
1802 (saiiic volume, p. 108), he seems to have entertained ideas tending towards Final 
BestoratioD. It is an interestiug passage, as exhibiting Knox's relations towards 
Wesley at that period : “ Still, however, th4mgh holding the substance of Methodism, 

I believe I dififer from most Methodists in some of my views. My notions of what con- 
sfitutes the reality of religion and of God’s mercy to human beings are prolmbly less 
confined than those of the generality of that denomination. Yet 1 meet several of the 
Wesleyans who think much as 1 do ; for instance, one charming Methodist that I rode 
with tms day (Dr. A. Clarke ?). 1 was this morning telling him of soflie of my charit- 
able views, and he received them with delight. I mean that even in Christian oonntries 
there are numbers who, in the Divine view, rank as heathens and as Jews, and will be 
reckoned mtb accordingly.'* 



■who are departed in Thy faith and fear, may have our perfect consummation 
■and bliss both in body anci soul ; * yea, and Whenever I say, ‘ Thy kingdom 
come,’ for I mean both the kingdom of grace and glory. In this kind of 
general prayer for the faithful departed I conceive myself to be clearly justi- 
fied, both by the earliest antiquity, by the Church of England, and by the 
Lord’s Prayer ; although the Papists have corrupted this Scriptural practice 
into praying for those who die in their sins.”* 

I have now shown that a great many of the leading features of the 
modern High Church revi^iil were due to Wesley^s teaching, derived 
through Knox. There are just two points which are to be referred to 
Knox alone. Wesley attached great weight, as just now remarked, to 
Christian antiquity, and always sought a justification therein for his 
own peculiar usages. Knox formally elaborated thii^view, and pushed 
it in the course of his studies much farther. Knox was a far pro- 
founder thinker than Wesley, and much as Knox loved Wesley, yet 
he saw that his action had only intensified the Babel of spiritual 
confusion then existing, when every person claimed a right to 
develop any doctrines he pleased out of the Scriptures, without any 
guidance or test whatsoever. This led Knox to inquire into Christian 
antiquity for some test whereby the Christian thinker could rule his 
mind amid the shifting sands of theological controversy, where he 
found the famous rule of Vincent of Lerins : " Quod semper, quod 
ubique, quod ab omnibus creditum est.^^ The origin of this rule 
s?ommended it to Knox. Vincentius was a scmi-Pelagian — in the 
language of Knox's time, an Arminian, and a fierce antagonist of St. 
Augustine and his high predestinarian doctrine. About the year 
434 he wrote a treatise with the design of applying a principle to St. 
Augustine^s teaching, which that great doctor recognized — namely, 
that the subjective ^theories of a Church teacher, however holy and 
highly gifted, availed nothing in opposition to the ancient and 
universally accepted doctrine of the Church, and that such theories 
would remain nothing but mere private opinions, unless they bore the 
marks of antiquity, universality, and general consent. This struck 
.Knox’s fancy. The rampant Calvinism of his day was just as obnoxious 
and hostile to Knox as ever it was to Wesley, or, earlier still, to Vin- 
centius. We have no idea in 1887 what this controversy meant about 
the year 1800, when Knox himself w as solemnly consigned to eternal 
torments for heretical teaching by one of its leading apostles. Knox 
eagerly grasped, therefore, at this Vincentian rule, which disposed of 
his foes as mere innovators upou true Chrfstianity ; he taught his 
discovery to his friend Jebb, subsequently Bishop of Limerick, and 
one of the few modern divines who figure in almost every catena* 
of authorities published by the early Tractariaiis. Jebb was an 
elegant scholar, a learned divine, but a man devoid of any mental 
force or vigorous character. He was one of those secondary person- 
* “Works,” ed. 1872, t. ix. p. 55. 


VOL. LIl. 



ages who play a very usefhl part in history, form log. conduits or pipes 
conveying to the public, and rendering popular, ideas which profounder 
minds evolve. Just as St. Luke stood towards St. Paul, and St. 
Mark towards St. Peter, so Jebb stood towards KnoX| who was the 
real author of those high views of doctrine and discipline of which 
Jebb was regarded as the special apostle sixty or seventy years ago.^ 
The thirty years’ correspondence between Knox and Jebb has not 
been hitherto much noticed, and yet it fdi:ms a very important link 
in our historical argument. Just as an Alpine traveller crossing the 
Grimsel will meet at its highest summit, near the Todtensee, a tiny 
streamlet, which he crosses without wetting his feet, and yet can traqie 
that same stream along by his path till a few miles lower it becomes 
the raging and foaming Aar ; so in this correspondence the philosophic 
reader will trace about the year 1805 the first rise of this Vincentian 
idea, destined a quarter of a century later to change the face of 
the Church of England. I have already said that Knox had no 
longing towards Rome — nay, rather, he was iutensly opposed to that 
Church, which he regarded as a species of Christianized Judaism — 
renewed yoke of rites and ceremonies for a semi- barbarous 
Christian public.’^ He thought, too, that in the Vincentian rule he 
had discovered the strongest barrier against the Papal pretensions. 
In the early part of this century the celebrated J. K, L., or Bishop 
Doyle, the Roman Catholic controversialist, put forward a plan for 
the union of the Anglican and Roman Churches. Mr. Knox wTOte a 
letter Remains,'* iii. 311) on the impossibility of any such union, 
where his principal point is this ; That the Anglicans adopt the 
Vinicentian rule and appeal to antiquity against the aberrations of the 
living Church, while Rome maifitains that such pn appeal is treason, 
and leads to heresy. Jebb adopted his views eti bloc from Knox. 
In fact, Jebb w^as simply an echo of Knoxes opinions on every ques- 
tion. Jebb embodied Knox's theory about the '\’iuccntian rule in 
an appendix to a volume of sermons which he published in 1816. 
These sermons at once aroused the wrath of the Evangelicals, repre- 
sented by the ChriHiian Observer^ which attacked Jebb’s sermons and 
Knoxes opinions, and especially the Vincentian rule as stated in 
Jebb’s Appendix, wiih just as much bitterness as, twenty years later, 
it assailed Tract No. 78, which set forth exactly the same idea. 
In fact, the Christian Observer of 183G-7, when discussing the cor- 
respondence of Jebb and Knox, just then published, expressly states 
the view which this article has been advocating, and recognizes Knox 
• as the real father of the Tractarian movement. 

* J«bb indirectly also contributed to the ri<)e of the Tractarian movement by hie 
influence on Sir William Palmer, one of the last surviving leaden thereof, who died in 
thdk Iflflfl- H»re, in his “ History of the Church of England from William III. to Victoria,” 
reckonA”' p. 272, tells us that Palmer iirst imbibed the idea of his '^Origines Liturgicie,” 
^bliibed in 1832, from his study of Bishop Jebb's ordination ooune. 



There was another point in which Knox recognized a deficiency 
in the Church system of his time, and wonderfully predicted the 
course of future development. The weakest side of the Established 
Church of his day was its public worship. We can all remember 
abundant survivals of the square boxes, the three-decker pulpits, and 
the parson and clerk duet, which rendered public worship one of 
the dreariest exercises imaginable. Here again Knox received from 
Wesley an impulse which rfct his mind thinking, and worked out 
unexpected results. Wesley was in many respects before his age, 
and in none more than in his idea of public worship. He loved 
singing, delighted in choral services, enjoyed music at the Holy 
Communion, and thought the chanting of the Gloria in Excelsis at 
Exeter like heaven. He had many modern notions : he approved of 
short services, and thought an hour ought to be their limit. His 
hymns, with their lively tunes — for it was his avowed principle not 
to leave all the good music to the devil — helped on the revolution, 
which was after all but a slow one. The adoption of hymns and 
hymn-singing by Wesley rather prejudiced high-and-dry Churchmen 
against them, and it is not so many years since some of the old 
Tractarians were arguing against their use, and pleading for the exclu- 
sive rights of Tate and Brady as being the only authorized choral 
expression of devotion. In Knoxes time, however, public worship 
all over the kingdom was in a most lamentable state — without interest 
or life for either rich or poor. In fact, Knox thought just then that 
for the poor the services of the Weslcyans were the only ones which 
could gain their hearts or fix their attention. Nay, he went farther, 
for, though professing himself a Chur^'hraan of the school of Jeremy 
Taylor, Knox, and Herbert, he tells us in 1802''' that w hen in Liver- 
pool he attended the Wesleyan services because I despair of getting 
an atom of heart instruction from any other qxiarter. The dry details 
of meagre morality which are pronounced from most parochial pulpits 
have no more aptitude to mend hearts than the most fraudulent 
quack medicines have to avert mortality.” Knox saw" that the 
preaching of the Established Church must be i;pformed, and he 
saw, too, that the whole tone and conception of public worship must 
be raised, altered, and brought practically into line with the funda- 
mental ideas of the Prayer-book. In his correspondence with Bishop 
Jebb there are three passages in letters dated 1816, 1817, and 1820, t 
where he urges the utter hopelessness of bringing home religious 
principles and truth to the mass of the people by preaching alone, 
or by the distribution of Bibles, which was then the popular panacea 
for all spiritual ignorance. Knox was a great admirer of Bishop 
Butler, and of none of his writings more than of his famous charge 


* Letter to the Rev. Dr. Alcock : “ Remains,” iv. 102. 

+ “ Correspondence,” ii. 284, 34 1,. 457. 




on the Necessity and Advantages of External Religion. The following 
passage seems a prediction by Knox of that revival and reform of 
public worship which the Oxford movement most certainly originated, 
and which has now affected every party, or sect within or without 
the Anglican Establishment. In letter No. 131 he writes to Jebb: 

“ I believe our Church is now what it now ought to be ; its defects 1 deem 
to be strictly providential. But hereafter, ip some way or other, religion 
must be brought more broadly, impressively, lind attractively into general, 
and especially into juvenile, view. Bishop Butler’s desideratum in his charge 
must somehow or other be provided for. Tin* want of this has left the 
English population in the dismal alternative of brute, perhaps scornful, impiety, 
or indefinite secUirianism.” 

Religion, he insists in the same letter, must be made attractive. 
Simplicity in the service of God had been in his opinion cried up in 
a false direction, adding the (for him) very caustic reflection, ‘‘ they 
who have been most zealous on this point would not have liked for 
themselves what they allotted to religion : *’ a passage which 
might be used to cover the extremest forms of ritualism, 
and which most certainly has found a complete justification in 
the popularity and attractiveness of a more ornate worship with the 
people of this generation. A weekly Review very wittily once re- 
marked that the Church of England had never learned the vast 
power of tea, leaving it all to the Dissenters ; but gave it credit fi)r 
having discovered the power of Christmas decorations, which had 
touched the popular heart with a new sense of the value and use of 
Christmas and the other Christian festivals which would have amply 
satisfied even Alexander Knoxes aspirations. 

I have now concluded the task I set before myself, and have shown 
the subtle, secret link which connects the great 'Wesleyan revival of 
the last century with the Oxford movement of the present time. It 
has been rather a heavy task, involving long and frequent quotations 
— and necessarily so. Knox himself anticipated, in one of his letters 
to Hannah 3Jore,'“ that the task of tracing WcsIcy^s influence would 
be a difficult one, for he says : , 

My persiic'isinn is, that John Wesley’s destination related eminently to 
the Pi~tabli'«‘he<l Cliurch ; 'probably, however, not in a way of direct impulsion, 
but of roinote influence. If tlie former was intcmli fl, it evidently failed; 
■W'hatcvcr increase of jnety the E'^tablisluncnt has derived from Methodism 
coming rather from Mr.'WhiteficId than from Mr. Wesley.’' 

I have now' shown what was the remote influence of Wesley 
upon the Church of England, derived througli the Irish recluse 
who spent the most part of a contcm])Iativc and retired life in 

* “ Remains," iii. 175. 



46 Davison Street, Dublin ; * and as we look back upon it we derive 
two reflections : one is purely speculative, and it is this — if the great 
revivalist preacher in the last century produced the High Church 
movement of the present one, what startling and apparently contra- 
dictory developments may our descendants of 1987 be tracing back to 
the controversies of the present day ! The other reflection is more 
practical. The survey of Wesley^s life, influence, and teaching, speaks 
volumes for the superiority of spiritual work over mere political 
movements. Politics may be more entrancing for shallow minds, and 
certainly offer far more tempting present rewards. But movements 
that are spiritual and intellectual reach down to the depths of 
man^s nature, and last when the faintest echoes of political strife and 
action have ceased to sound. Who knows the names of the greatest 
part of the statesmen of the last century ? Who could enumerate the 
Lord Chancellors of George the Second or George the Third. The 
grandest achievements of a Pitt and a Castlereagh have passed away, 
or, as in the case of the Union, have received a terrific shock ; but the in- 
fluence of the spiritual revival with which Wesley^s name has 
been associated continues to grow and flourish, as if endowed with 
perpetual youth. It has liberalized theology ; it has revolutionized 
public worship ; it has developed art, architecture, and poetry \ it has 
radically altered the Anglican Communion ; it has materially afiected 
every other Christian Communion speaking the English tongue and 
is destined to form a most important link in the development of the 
Divine purposes as regards the future of the Christian Church, 

George T. Stokes. 

* Mr. Knox died in 1881. A monument to him was erected some time after iiis 
death, in St. Anne’s (’hurch, Dublin, where he used to 'worship. A stained-glass window 
was erected in the same church, some twent^^-tive years ago, to commemorate his memory, 
through the exertions of tne vicar, the \'eiy Kcv. H. 11. IMckinson, D.D.. supported by 
the survivors of the old High Churcli jiarty, who remembered tlieir obligations to Knox. 
Philosophy also owes something to Iiiin, as he anticifiated C’oleridge’s famous distinction 
between the Reason and the Understanding, though 1 do not think he ever read a word 
of German Philosophy, ivliith was not then in vogue. 


second ARTICLE) 

111 . 

S OLEIMAN uttered a solemn AlamdUlUah when the Deeshman had 
got well along the plain. He told me they belonged to a place and 
tribe two days away in the Arabah. As I went home that night I 
danced more from prudential motives than from lightness of heart. 
At the stopping-point beneath the castle Soleiman detected strange 
voices mixed with those of our party. His covert advance and my 
check over the donkey were therefore more studied than ever, until it 
turned out that a friendly company of Arabs going by, had deter- 
mined to make ours their resting-place also, and wc thus appeared 
to be a merry company, although without wine, and, alas ! even much 

By the morning I had formed my plans. I assumed that the 
white space on my paper, where the goat was to be painted, repre- 
sented to all the Arabs, including Soleiman, an amount of work 
which would consume much time. My friends of yesterday would 
submit their solution of my motive to some wise man, and he would 
agree that if the whole were not covered, the trri/inf/ would be of no 
use either to me or to them ; that they must not therefore return too 
soon. My brother was evidently anxious about them, and he pressed me 
urgently to shorten my stay. There w^as indeed nothing essential 
for me to do now but the drift-wood at the right foreground, and 
this was completed in the day when sunset had gone, I announced 
to Soleiman that all was done. Collecting salt and one or two other 
relics for use in the holy city, wc returned to the tent, prepared 
to depart the next day ; but wc cautioned secrecy towards strangers, 
should any come. 

* The outline or the camel carefully diawn, I could finish from a model in the neigh- 
bourliood of Jerusaieni. 



It was not without Jmany backward glances that I led my horse 
up the difficult slope^ only consoling myself with the promise 
that I Would return again soon and paint the castle ; and then 
my thanksgiving, at having so far been enabled to achieve my object 
in coming, found voice. To get on the broad uplands again was like 
release from prison, and the sweet breezes seemed to bring me fresh 
life. One care, however, was for the poor goat. These animals are 
seen browsing and flouritiiing all over the country, where nothing 
but dry plants and stalks, and these in great scantiness on rock sides, 
appear. In our wady there was such poor fare to be got by an 
enterprising animal, and I think he had found enough, but when we 
had advanced a little on the journey he was poorly. I had him lifted 
to the top of the picture-case and carried. The sun here distressed 
him. We took him down to find an easier means of carriage, but it 
was useless — the ominous vultures appeared. He was sinking, and 
while I was drawing him he died, to my serious regret. The incident 
had interrupted Soleiman's appeals to me to send Nicola home alone ; 
but as we got nearer to his encampment, and I wanted to revel in 
the wonders of the scene, he manifested impatience to be told what I 
was intending to give each of the party in backsheesh, dwelling much 
on his own superior claims, so that I was obliged to exhibit impatience. 
When we .arrived at the tents matters grew no better ; wc got fresh 
provisions, however, and so reduced our hunger; but it did not 'make 
us less sensible of the cold in the night, which was so intense to our 
heated frames that all the coverings we had did not silence loud 
discontent at inability to sleep. The winter indeed w as nigh at hand. 

In the morning I would not specify before starting, as requested 
by all again, the amount of backsheesh each should receive at Jeru- 
salem. The sheik put in his claim, but I would not satisfy him ; and 
when after travelling an hour or two I was still pestered by all the 
party in turn, it was with no affectation that I declared myself 
offended, and forbade any of them to speak again to me. I rode 
quite ahead to ^ maiji this determination, and in the variety of 
the scenes, with the sweetness of the odours of Araby which 
arose from each step of my horse in the aromatic herbage, I 
was enjoying the very act of living, chanting lowly in words of 
delight, and then speculating on the news that I should gain 
after what seemed so long an absence from civilized life, when 
at first with doubt, and then with certainty, T heard the distant firing 
of rifles. I was familiar with it, as a feature which the people of a 
city — Jerusalem, to wit — introduce in a State fete; and I guessed* 
that news from the Crimea had arrived of a kind acceptable to the 
Turks, and that the people of Hebron were holding fantasia around 
the town on the hills. As I advanced, this idea seemed confirmed, 
f or undoubtedly the reports proved that the people were assembled 



close between me and the town^ and soon even the shouting could 
be heard. I dawdled now for my whole party to come up, and then 
we ascended the road between two hills, the guns so near that it 
became a matter of wonder that 1 could not see the shooters. Looking 
to the height on my left, where I could hear speaking, suddenly a 
figure appealed, followed by others full of excitement ; then, with arm 
pointing in my direction, I heard the sheik cry, Now go ; seize them.^^ 
And fifty men ran fast down the slope. ‘ •Behind were others, part 
of a crowd hidden over the brow. On the height to my left, as I 
looked, a group appeared who began to descend, but were called back. 
For a second I thought it was a game; but not when the descending 
party turned on our rear, and some took hold of our men and animals, 
while others ran along to me. I muttered aspirations to the Unseen, 
and immediately I saw, plain as the dicmon of Socrates taught 
him, that T must not resist, and I was as reconciled as though there 
had been no danger of any kind to us. 

Three men seized my horse by the bridle, and otliers less nimble 
increased their number, putting their hands on ray right arm. They 
were livid in colour, blackened with powder, and in many cases with 
bloodshot eyes, worn with long watching, and the strife and hatred 
of Cain, My scrutiny offended some, the clamour arose that there 
should be no delay, and one close by shouted, Dismount.^^ I had 
my leg half over the horse when a new arrival with evident authority 
said, ^^No; stop ! I reseated myself, and there was a babel of 
protracted explanation and debate. Many conflicting voices were 
heard ; finally, the decision was expressed clearly, Lead him on, and 
send him forward,’’ and my horse was conducted some hundred yards, 
and left with the command that *I should go straight forward ; but 
the screamings with the hinder party about my men, the glittering of 
swords, and the pushing and swaying about made me think that poor 
Nicola and the muleteers were being killed. I obeyed a sudden im- 
pulse to turn my horse, at which mj captors were furious ; but at the 
moment I saw the back crowd open, and my comT)anions emerge, being 
evidently directed to follow me. J halted for their arrival, the guard 
impatient to see the order for my advance obeyed. At the moment 
it seemed that nothing could be more desirable to do, yet Nicola ever 
turned to continue a torrent of apologies. Going on again, and 
looking ahead at every step to understand our position the better, we 
came to the opening of' the hitherto screened road ; and, with this 
descending into the valley before us, I could sec the heights a quarter 
of a mile ahead, both to the left and to the right of the road, 
occupied by large forces ; and the defences on the slopes proved 
that they were engaged in actual warfare, but which line divided 
the four forces I could not tell. 1 paused therefore for a few 
moments to make sure of my course before descending with the 



mules^ when suddenly J heard the keen tearing of bullets close by my 
ears^ and I saw these ploughing up the ground on the banks beside 
us. They had come from the hill to the south. I got off my horse 
to lead him held as a screen till we reached the shelter of certain ridges 
in the descending road, and I made Nicola do the same, although he 
was too much absorbed in a fresh outburst of sobbings, and in a 
declaration that he knew I should be the death of him in the end, to 
do anything with alacrii* ,* When behind the banks, I saw a party 
of horsemen ahead, about twenty in number, with thirty or forty men 
on foot, evidently intending to intercept our passage. Nicola there- 
upon, still rubbing his knuckles in his eyes the while, said, That is 
Abderrachman, and he hates the English because the consul put 
him in prison once before. If he finds you are an Englishman, he 
will have no mercy. Pray, sir, say you are an American or a German, 
and he will let us go/^ This provoked my patience, and I thought 
it wise to caution him against forestalling me with his prudential 
policy, so I said, ''If you dare say that I am anything but 'an 
Englishman, I will ask him as a particular favour to kill you first.^' 
The valley resounded with his howling as wc got down to the 
lower part of the road. The party in possession had taken up their 
stand to the left. It was easy to distinguish the leader. I rode up 
to him and said, " I am an Englishman going back to Jerusalem. I 
have been for a fortnight at the Wady Zuara. The English consul 
knows where I am, and if you stop me he will hold you responsible ; 
at which his polite countenance beamed, and he said, You are 
among friends now.^* “ But,^^ I said, " if so, why did your men try 
to kill us just now ? ” " Well, it was a mistake. At the distance 

vfe could not sec you were a FrauK, and having horsemen with you 
we thought you were coming to attack us.^^ And then I asked, 
Are you not -:Vbderrachman ? " Oh no,^^ he said ; " Abderrachfhan 

is trying to take Hebron. It was his force you passed through just 
now. I am his brother, and am fighting against him.” This amiable 
explanation deserved^ thanks, which I gave, with "Good evening, 
as I resumed the road. Nicola gurgled with joyful surprise as we 
passed on. 

With anxiety thus relieved, I could now ask questions about our 
treasures. The canteen had been opened, and found empty. The 
case with the picture had been a matter of dispute, but, the fellaheen 
being convinced that it contained only a pa*per with a writing on it, 
that was also given up without injury. 

In the road, just sheltered from shot, were children aul women 
huddling up the cattle — sheep, goats, oxen, horses, and asses in little 
groups, ^here was a fire with a cauldron of hot water, and pots with 
coffee, and simple fare for the men engaged in defending the town, 
and there were biers to serve as litters at hand for carrying off the 



wounded. The women docasionallj were giving their cries of distress. 
I ‘"entered thus for the first time into the experience of a beleaguered 
. town. 

My return to civilized life was to be preluded by a visit to the 
Prussian doctor in charge of the quarantine building. It was 
originally erected as a protection against plague, but the plague had 
disappeared, and the doctor in charge of the place was thus cut off 
from professional usefulness as well as from* the amenities of society. 
He was known to be somewhat morose, nevertheless it was said that 
he appreciated a visit as a kindness. I had called on him more than 
once before, and I intended this time again to give him the advantage 
of my company. 

When 1 arrived, and was seated in his divan smoking a tchibouk, 
he expressed surprise, asking me how I had got into the town. In 
telling him that 1 had at first supposed the firing to be in fantasia 
from some Crimean victory, he shouted, Jamais, monsieur, jamais la 
miserable armee Anglaise ni celle de la France ne pourra gagner une 
victoire sur les Busses — ^les Russes sont plus fort que tous les deux.” 
I shrugged my shoulders, not caring to dispute so prejudiced a pro- 
position, for it was evident that he would not readily abandpn it. 
Yet I managed to change the subject, and was assured by my host 
that no provisions could be bought in Hebron, but that if I liked to 
partake of his hospitality, instead of sleeping in the tent, I should be 
welcome, adding that I should probably have bullets come into my 
windows during the night ; but that I should be likely to fare worse 
in the open air. He went on to caution me against too roseate a 
view of the open country before me, telling that a Turkish efiendi, 
with a guard coming from Jerusalem, had that day been robbed of 
eve^thing, including arms. 

Having so far eased his conscience as host, the doctor returned to 
the expression of his views about the -war, and repeating something 
offensive about the incapacity of the English army, which I said 
history disproved, he got up and very defiantly, declaimed, ‘^Do you 
know what I would do if any one said so much of the Prussian army ? 
I would challenge him to fight a mortal duel.” “ Well,” I said 
pacifyingly, ^^it does not seem necessary to find new quarrels here, 
and ours is a question which time will settle better than any private 
duel could. I should be very miserable at the idea of risking the 
killing 9 f any one else, or at the greater danger of being killed 
myself on such a question ; but if you will allow me, I will 
iSall my man to give him his instructions.” While I was yet 
speaking his two porters, of the complexion of ancient parch* 
ment, rushed into the room, gasping, Oh, hakim pasflk, hakim 
pasha ! Abderrachman’s men from Doora have suddenly appeared on 
the heights, and are rushing down the hill into the town, and will 



be here directly. Ii^mediately the doctor shouted orders to shut 
the gates^ and standing in, a very martial posture with hand extended, 
he continued, Et vous^ Monsieur TAnglais, que voulez vous ? 

Well/^ I asked, what are you about to do ? " "Pour moi” he 
declaimed, " personne n^entrera ici sans passer au-dessus mon corps/* 

Very well,^^ said I ; " then as I am your guest at the moment, I here 
declare (and somehow the situation seemed amusing as I adopted the 
heroic strain) they shall v.'ve two dead bodies to pass over, but lend 
me an extracting ramrod and I will change one of my barrels, which 
now only has duck-shot/^ 

In a minute more all was ready. On a gallery above the gateway 
there was a good stone parapet, made doubtless in anticipation of 
such needs, and I crouched down with my gun ready, as did the 
Prussian doctor and his servants. Nicola, again in noisy paroxysms 
of despair, kept within. I could hear him sobbing and stamping 
through all the din. The sun was still high enough to shine on the 
men rushing down hill, who were sparkling with steel and were 
glorious with rich colours as they appeared in and out of the fruit- 
trees. The leader was mounted on a fine white horse, and he was 
harking back a long gunshot away to mass the forces, which seemed 
to be about two hundred strong. One band was coming close to the 
front of the building ; another was passing farther away straight on 
to the town. As these were far forward it seemed that they would 
enter without any effective opposition, for there were no more than 
a scanty sprinkling of men in the town. Few as they were, how- 
ever, these defenders of the stuff won my admiration by collecting 
together, with flashing swords and guns meeting the invading party 
of six times the number. The criek and confusion, mixed with the 
tiring of weapons, made the meeting one on which I could only look 
with bated breath. In a few minutes the new-comers carried all 
before them, and as they advanced further I leaked to see what dead 
were left on the field, and was surprised at observing the ground 
unencumbered. While thus absorbed, with only side attention to 
nearer matters, the doctor recognized the horseman as an intimate 
friend, and the latter approached and explained that he, another 
brother, had just resolved to abandon Abderrachman and join the 
town. This explained the bloodlessness of the meeting just witnessed, 
and with this speech the actors in this second drama of the day 
retired from the stage. 

I was able then to send one of our party into the bazaar to buy 
some necessaries for the canteen, but the doctor was fraternal enough 
to declare that sufficient rice was added to his supper to serve for 
me too, and 1 was the more at ease in accepting a place at tabic 
after having made common cause with him in peril. He had not 
been able to procure meat for a week. With pomegranates added to 



our mess and a cup of cofifee to follow^ we fare^d better than many of 
the besieged did that night. 

I suffered no personal remorse at quitting the hospitality of the 
doctor/ as I arranged to take my chance of the road' on the morrow. 
There were no surprises in the night, and sleeping under a solid 
roof was no unwelcome change. As we made our preparations 
to start before sunrise, the Osmanli travellers of yesterday came 
amusing me by asking to go under our escort. As no one but myself 
was armed, I replied that I must look mainly to the* safety of our 
own party, but that if they wished it I should be glad to have them 
accompanying us ; and so I sallied out with no encouraging farewell 
from our host ; Aboudaouk’s men, who had disappeared yesterday, 
were, I heard, close at hand. Emerged from the town I peered, 
while still among the vineyards, at every opening to discover lurking 
enemies, but, except for distant firing far behind us, there were no 
signs of life. I had expected to find a force on this side of Hebron, 
but I had passed the ancient ruin and reached the open country 
without having seen a being. 

Ascending a slope with many single cattle-tracks among brushwood, 
which formed the road, suddenly there appeared against the sky-line 
in front a small band of fellaheen on horse and foot. There were 
about seven or eight, the favourite number for a native expedition. 
The leader at once drew up and addressed his men, directing them to 
spread themselves out, and he himself turned to confront me. This 
he did in a marked manner. I determined to escape all appearance 
of wishing to evade him, so I directed ray steps towards him, and 
when there might have been the excuse of passing more conveniently 
by keeping the path to the left oi that he had entered, I chose his, 
and brought my horse^s head in front of him. t sing my left hand 
to hold my gun by the barrel, with a slight switcli in the right I 
gently touched his aniipal on the nose, looking at him cheerfully the 
while, and saying at the moment, " Marhabba, welcome.*^ His steed 
swerved, and I took his place and passed, IIp called out with a 
forced laugh to his followers, " Ah, ah, a friend ! ” " Yes,^^ I re- 

marked, " an English friend/^ and turned now with my gun ready 
and trigger cocked, for he was repeating orders to seize my mules. 
•'Ibrahim, go and take that mule ; ya Abdullah go to that/' and 
two men walked forwards, one to the canteen, one to the picture. 
When they were nearly Vithin reach, he added, "Take hold." I 
said, " Ya Ibrahim, don’t touch my mules, ya Abdullah, beware ! " 
and I brought the gun close upon the first. The leader then said, 
\ " Don't listen, ya Ibrahim, and Abdullah seize them." But when I 
ibdded| " I will shoot the first moment your hand touches the halter," 
jpaahaliesitated at the critical point, while the mules quietly marched 
the h^ poor gentleman, a few months later, committed suicide at Hebron. 



along past them. Mj muleteers walked at their side. Ibrahim and 
Abdullah took up an altercation with their fellows as the animals 
passed me. I brought up the rear^ looking behind^ and as we crossed 
the brow of the hill, catching the eye of the leader, I bent in my 
aflFablest manner with Ma salame, ya sheik (“ Go in peacq, O 
sheik I am an English friend." And thus we parted, with 
better understanding than at meeting. 

1 had taken the right ^'leasure of these stragglers as a party ready 
to get plunder if it offered on easy terms, and not otherwise. I had 
not been sanguine enough, however, to imagine that with these passed 
I should find the road clear ; but when I scanned the new landscape 
before me not any further company of Arabs presented themselves 
to view. Ordinarily this road had groups of camelieres, and of Jews 
going to and from Hebron and Jerusalem; but on this occasion it 
was bare of these, as also of all freebooters. Occasionally we could 
see men on the heights moving, but our party, now rejoined by the 
Bedouin, looked formidable from afar, and the fellaheen kept to their 
villages, so that our anxiety slackened as we reached the Pools of 
Solomon, and watered our beasts. We passed Bethlehem still in 
close file ; but at Mar Elias I took leave of my two mute Turkish 
frieuHs, who ceremoniously bowed and beamed thanks, and I has- 
tened on ahead to Jeriisalem. 

After I had reached home and changed some circular notes I was 
prepared for all my Bedouin when they came for gold in exchange 
for their paper, and I gave a backsheesh for each, which seemed to 
equal their highest expectations. Their disappearance when we were 
in peril from the fellaheen did not seem heroic, but their presence 
would perhaps, from some old blood vengeance, have provoked greater 
ill feeling, and they had not undertaken to guard me on this side of 
their encampment. We parted with promises from me of a speedy 
return, not before Soleiman had again urged that I would send 
Nicola back to London with the picture, ending with, Ya Wulluam, 
you will come back and dance to us." It was post day, an4 I 
hastened to scribble off some letters. While thus engaged the vigi- 
lant consul sent for me, asking whether the report about Hebron 
spread by my attendants was true, and he at once required me to write 
a report for his official superiors, which I had to do as best I could, 
in the short time allowed me. 

The first need now was to finish the sky of my picture, which I 
had only sketched in. The roof of Dr. Sim's house furnished me 
with a studio for this purpose. • 

, It was not without great difficulty that I again found a young 
white goat as model. I painted from him in my courtyard. Some 
chance visitors, who called (as they do on artists at Rome), afterwards 
published a denial of the statement that the scene was painted on 



tlie spot, saying that they had seen me at work on it in my room at 
Jerusalem. More appreciatire spectators it was my good fortune to 
find among some English travellers. Lord and Lady Napier and 
Ettrick^ who had come from Constantinople on political business, 
cheered me by a serious interest in my work, which their genuine 
love of art made of living value to me, cut off as I was sb completely 
from the counsel of sympathetic critics. 

While finishing the picture of The Scapegoat I found that the 
interdict against the Jews helping me by sitting as models had been 
withdrawn through the influence of a Jewish friend; consequently, I 
was able to stay and progress with the Temple picture. 

It had been a vexation to me during the progress of this picture 
in Jerusalem to have no opportunity of seeing the distant slope of 
the northern Olivet from the platform of Moriah, which came into 
the background. Since 1241, when the successors of Godfrey de 
Bouillon were chased by the Turks from Jerusalem, no Christian but 
in disguise, or by stratagem, in risk of very probable death, had 
entered its precincts. Montefiore had indeed quite recently been 
admitted, but with an Israelite the concession was not so shocking 
to the sons of Ishmael. His olfence was rather to his nearer brethren. 
The Babbis had pronounced against the part which their benevolent 
visitor had taken in availing himself of the opportunity, because, it 
not being now known which was the spot covered by the Holy of 
Holies, he, not being the High Priest, might have offended in tread- 
ing on the proscribed ground. I had envied him and his followers, 
but still felt the possibility of getting in myself was as far off’ as ever. 
Quite late in the autumn of 1855, however, it was known that the 
Duke of Brabante was a visitor' in Jerusalem, and that the very 
enlightened and francophile Pasha of the day was making great 
efforts to gratify his utmost expectations. He had come with a 
firman to enter the Mosque area, but it was probable that, as with 
many previous travellers coming from Constantino{)le, his highness 
had been told that it would be fataPto the lives of all who attempted 
to act on the Sultanas order, intended only as a formal compliment. 
Still, perhaps because gossip had so little to indulge in, it was said 
the Duke would be allowed to enter the liaram, so 1 sought informa- 
tion at the fountain-head, and pleaded to be allowed to enter with the 
Princess suite. Mr. Finn, our consul, promised to do his best for 
me, and let me know in good time if the opportunity offered. 

Suddenly, at seven o'clock, a few mornings later, 1 received notice to 
go forthwith to the room of the Pasha's secretary ; on arriving I 
was astonished to see a room full of people — visitors, missionary 
clergymen, doctors, Protestant converts, and, what was more remark- 
aUe, the wives of many of these, and certain unmarried ladies 
engaged in the city on charitable work. That all of these should 



persuade themselves they cared enough about the Mosque to incur 
the risk of entering astonished me ; but while we were waiting we 
were told it was not certain we should be admitted. An hour or 
two passed in tedious delay. During this time it transpired that the 
Pasha was intent upon the success of a summons issued to all 
the dervishes of the Mosque to assemble in a certain chamber of 
the haram to discuss a point of great moment^ which had to 
be considered by the behest authorities. Thinking it* was the 
question of admitting the Belgian prince which had to be debated, 
they thronged into the building to utter their loudest protests. 
Delays arose in making certain that all had arrived, and then the 
doors were locked, and a company of soldiers was posted there to 
turn the council-chamber into a prison for an hour or so. 

It was a moment in life to make one’s heart stir as the door was 
’ turned on its hinges, and the way into this long dreamed of and 
ever forbidden sanctum was declared to be open. On my first 
arrival in Jerusalem, wandering alone, by mistake I had entered the 
gates, but before I had realized my position I was set upon by one, 
by two, and threatened by an approaching crowd of wild and dark 
Indians and Africans, whom I happily escaped by a hasty retreat. 
This time I rejoiced that the place was empty, and I gazed with 
boundless delight on the beautiful combination of marble architec- 
ture, mellowed by the sun of ages, of mossy-like cypresses, and 
porcelain slabs bearing the hues of jewels; but at once we were 
told that no one must linger. At the foot of the steps we were 
ordered to remove our boots. Having come in Turkish shoes, for 
me there was no difficulty, but many were unprepared ; and it was 
one of the grim mockeries of fate that at so solemn an epoch, with 
such sacred associations in mind, a body of ladies and gentlemen should 
intensify the hideous effect of European costumes by limping about 
in their stockings, soon lacerated, carrying Wellington and other 
boots and shoes in hand. Unfortunately the Prince, it was soon 
evident, cared nothing for the wonders about him ; he 
turned his royal hcacl to the right or the left as the guide referred 
to the different objects generally regarded with devotion, but never 
once did he pause from his march through the Mosque Assakhrah 
and that of A1 Aksa, or at any of the intervening objects, nor did 
he turn aside to examine anything out of the direct line of his walk 
— an Arab in Westminster Abbey could not have been more 
supremely unaffected. Once Dr. Sim and 1 ran off to look at the 
interior of the Beautiful Gate, but wc were quickly summoned back 
by a messenger, with a caution that, although the band of dervishes 
had been shut up, individuals might have escaped who would attack 
us. We represented that we were armed and would take the chance, 
but the Pasha still objected, and we had ta abandon our hope. On 



emerging from the gate to Via Dolorosa we .saw a body of Moslems 
in the street, who glared with hatred, such as only religious rancour 
could inspire, but they left us to disperse in peace. 

If in the breasts of all the Christian visitors to the Mosque that 
day the tenderness burned, which the sight of its reverent conserva- 
tion had kindled in mine towards Mahommedans, and the sons of 
Hagar assembled at its doors had then been able to read the newly 
written inscription on our hearts; the feelicg towards us would scarcely 
have been other than brotherly pride in according that hospitality which 
all the followers of the prophet of Mecca are enjoined to extend to 
strangers, and which on this occasion they would discern had not been 
abused. From the day when Salem was first spoken of as the city of 
Melchisedec, when Abram was blessed by the possessor of heaven 
and earth, this very spot had been the centre of inspiration to the^ 
three races — the Jewish, the Christian, and the Mahommedau — who 
worshipped the God of Abraham. Had the Jews still possessed it, 
there would have been signs of bloody sacrifice such as the modern 
world could not tolerate as part of the service of God. Had any 
sect of Christians held it, the place would have been desecrated either 
by tinselled dolls and tawdry pictures, or else by the staring ugli- 
ness and class vulgarity of the English and Prussian service. la 
the case of the Moslem there was not an unsightly, not a shocking 
object in the whole area, it was guarded, oh ! so fearingly and 
lovingly ; and it seemed a temple so purified from the pollution of 
perversity that involuntarily the text, Here will I take my rest for 
ever,^' rang in my ears. The past, so many pasts, stood about, and 
the immediate present was a pregnant wonder. The military forces 
of the greatest Powers were afar marshalled against each other, to 
settle the future domination of the city ; our presence there indeed 
marked the moving of the index to a turning-point. The Ishmaelites' 
sands were running fast away ; but I could feel that the sons of 
Hagar had been appointed for the great purpose of keeping the 
place sacred until the sons of Sarah had ])y their long suffering 
and by their influence upon the outer world i)repared the way for 
resuming their charge of it. 

The visit had been a great delight to me, but I had not attained 
my object. I had not been able to make even the slightest scribble 
of the landscape for my picture. I had, however, gained distinct 
knowledge that the only point from which it could be obtained was 
the roof of the Mosque of the rock. Some of my acquaintances 
•asked me whether I had succeeded in my object. Mr. James 
Graham, the secretary of the Mission, knew my anxiety, and in a 
visit shortly afterwards he spoke to the Pasha^s amanuensis of this, 
whereupon the latter undertook, if 1 made a portrait of him, to 
admit me to draw on the roof as well as to see the place further. 



as far as time would allow in the one visits an offer I at once closed 

On the appointed morning I went by eight o^clock to the Pasha^s 
office^ and there^ with ceremonies of coffee and tobacco, I was received 
cordially by the agent and his friends. I did my best to hasten these 
formalities, to get to work at the portrait. 1 knew that sketchiness 
would not be appreciated, so I drew with fine lines, and I took the 
opportunity to add a little S.‘olour by way of beautifying the likeness. 
All agreed that it was wonderful," and the amanuensis, as I 
handed it over to liim, admitted that I had performed my part of 
the bargain liberally and satisfactorily. For his part he sent away a 
messenger, and quickly the custodian of the Mosque came — a hand- 
some, tall man of about forty-five. He was the descendant of the 
family appointed in perpetuity by the Caliph Omar to the office, as 
a short time before he had shown, when the Sultan had sent a place- 
man from Constantinople to take his post; and the official in 
authority proved that not even the present head of the faithful had 
power to oust him. Into his charge I was now given, and he alone 
led the way into the sacred enclosure. 

It was a singular example of the Moslem’s submissiveness to the 
inevitable, that so few days after the religious world of Islam were 
ready to die to defend the Mosque enclosure from intrusion, no steps 
were to be taken to guard me while I entered dressed, all but the 
feet, in English costume, and with a large sketch-book under my 
arm, following the unsupported custodian. 

I could afford but little time for a general survey. Photographs 
and the great discussion as to the building of the dome have now 
made familiar to the world the stai tling unlikeness of the outside and 
inside of this Mosque. Remarking on this to the Rev. J. Nicolayson 
after my first visit, he had said, I see you are a convert to Mr. 
Fergusson^s theory." I had then never heard of this view which the 
architectural critic had formed from examination of exact drawings — 
made under the most extraordinary circumstances — by Mr. Catherwood 
and Mr. Bonomi.* It ^as not my purpose to settle this question, 
but I hurried from point to point to examine some of the wonders of 
the whole court (many I could not even look for). When I turned 
to my guide, asking to be taken to the roof of the northern Mosque, 
he hesitated, for he had to get the key of the stairs. He made me 
go with him that I should not be left alone, and then we ascended to 
the leads. The dome gave me the protection from the sun which I 
wanted, and there, on tinted paper, I gained the forms of my back- . 
grounds, the colours for which I could get from my own terrace. I 
regarded the feat as a triumph, while I completed the work on the 
canvas itself with the same hills before my eyes from my bwn 
roof. ^ 

TOL. ill. 




My unbroken stay in Jenisalein for sixteen months after six spent 
in Egypt was now affecting my healthy and the doctmr' advised me to 
seek change, so I set to work to complete all parts of my picture, 
which could be done best in the East. Before I left Jerusalem 1 
had painted the heads of all the doctors save the one close to the 
arm of the Saviour. I had also finished the head of St. Joseph, 
that of the wine-carrier, and the figure of the youth holding a sistrum. 
For the principal two figures I had cautiously made separate studies 
to determine racial type, knowing that the discovery that my picture 
was more than an assemblage of Jewish Rabbis — which I truly explained 
it as being — would, in the temper then existing, prevent any other 
Israelites from sitting to me then or on future visits. In October or 
November 1855, I sent all my pictures and traps straight to Oxford. 

The Scapegoat had already gone, but it had arrived too late for that 
yearns Exhibition. The design for its frame w'as made from a draw- 
ing sent home by me. I was then free to bring my residence in 
Jerusalem to a close. 

I have already said that I came home by way of the north of 
Syria, the Archipelago, Constantinople, visiting the armies as they 
were encamped in the Crimea. Here I saw some little of naval life 
on board the flag-ship as the guest of Admiral Lyons, who afforded 
me every opportunity of witnessing the field of strife. I returned 
by France, and arrived in England in February, 1850, after an absence 
of two years. 

The story of my work in Jerusalem in 1851-55 has already 
been referred to in previous articles on Pre-Raphaelitism, together 
with the reception of ^^The Scapegoat in 1850. From this it will 
be understood that the new departure iu my art (which the study 
of Orientalism for fuller insights into Biblical history had provoked), 
put me again in the position of a beginner in the eyes of the public, 
although I had already exhibited some eight years. The fashion is 
so strong for an artist to repeat himself continually, that my fresh 
productions were regarded for years with the greatest shyness. 
While the “ Dead Sea ’ subject was with Mr.^ Corube, he did all he 
could to get it sold, but all those, who, after The Light of the 
W^orld^’ and ‘‘Claudio and Isabella had won their way, had 
expressed themselves as anxious to possess some future work of mine, 
when they saw this new one, objected to the subject as not charac- 
, xeristic of me — the atmosphere, the colour, and the whole scene were 
perfectly incredible and unlike my previous pictures, moreover it 
.should have been done by an animal painter, Ansdell or Land- 
seer, they said. On my private view day a great picture-dealer 
called to see ray contributions for the Exhibition ; he objected to the 
subjlk^t as unsuitable, and also as unknown and unintelligible. I 
argued that he must have heard of the scapegoat, if only in raillery, 



but he declared it was perfectly unknown to him. I then accounted 
for this by the fact tlfat he was a Frenchman, at which he proposed 
to test English intelligence by askii% up his wife and another 
English lady. We left them to guess the subject, but they had no 
sort of idea what it could be. When the title was given, they were 
not one whit the wiser, for they also declared their ignorance of the 
fact that any goat had ever been chased away into the wilderness as 
part of an atonement cere >-.ony ; so the dealer went away triumphant 
in his verdict against the picture. The painting, I may repeat, was 
well placed at the Academy, and attracted great attention from high 
and low, of those well-guided beings who trusted to their deep and 
impartial instincts in questions of Art; well-guided by this alone, if 
without the training of perfect tuition, and unable to expose the little- 
ness of that learning which consists mainly of the cant and slang of our 
study and the profession. Unfortunately, too many of the purchasers 
of pictures — as Canova said of English patrons — see with their 
ears,^^ and licncc they fight shy of all work new in idea and novel in 
execution. In thirty-two years I may say that the world sanctions my 
innovating spirit, in this particular instance ; for now the ingenious 
mouthpieces of tradition, who wish to insinuate the most damaging 
suggestions for the passing day, make capital out of " The Scape- 
goat,^^ and other pictures of the time, acknowledging their excel- 
lence, declaring their merits to be absent in my later works; 
just as men used to say of Dickens^ much greater inventions of 
later days, that he would never again write anything equal to 

I had spent .£1,200 in the East in two years — "The Scapegoat 
had taken more than one-third of the time ; and, reserving the copy- 
right, I asked 100 guineas for it ; but the whole Exhibition went by 
without a purchaser, and then 1 had to give up the copyright to 
obtain my price.* My inability to regain suflBcient means made a 
return to Syria impossible for many years. 

It was not without interest to me that an artist, who had more 
than once been very actively generous in praising my works, met 
one of roy companions at this time, saying, " Has your friend Hunt 
gone quite mad ? " Not that I know of,^^ replied the other. " Why ? 

" Well I have been looking at his picture of The Scapegoat,^ 
and for background he has painted the plain and mountains of the 
Dead Sea. Now my conception of tlie Lake Asphalt is that it 
should be gloomy and terrible, full of clouds and darkness, with 
only lurid lights about it to make the blackness more impressive; 
but he has gone and painted the scene with all the colours of the 
rainbow, and with light spreading everywhere ! 

How much more the actual facts of the spot were appropriate 

* It was sold at Christie^s a few weeks back for £1,400, 

Q 2 



than this conception by a half-informed^ albeit he was an imagina- 
tive man^ I leave the reader of this story to determine. 

The scene with the castle o^ Wady Zuara, which so entranced me^ 
I have never been able to painty neither the pictures of Engeddi nor 
Masada, which I wished to undertake, have I been able to execute. 
Life moves too swiftly when the taste of patrons needs so long to 
take the form of action. 

• W. Holman Hunt. 

[Never again have 1 seen my son Soleiman, altLout^h at Jerusalem aud lletUplieni 1 
have sent messages to him and received liis greeting in return. 1 was tohl that he had 
heen wounded and was fechle in health, that the sheikship was held by another, but it 
was not certain that my informants were quite clear about his identity. Nicola had dis- 
appeared from Jerusalem when I returned ; the last I saw of him w'as in 1854. when we 
met by chance on board the French Messagerie boat, Tancred, where his destiny to get 
into peril followed him. He was on his way to the Crimea to serve under the British 
flag in the Commissariat Service.] 



I OFFER some observations on Sir Grant Duff's reply to Mr. 

Samuel Smith, M.P., in this " Review." I do so, not with the 
object of defending Mr. Smith. He is well able to take care of 
himself. But of the subjects with which Sir Grant Duff has dealt, 
there are some of the most vital importance to India, and I desire 
to discuss them. 

I have never felt rilorc disappointed and grieved with any writings 
by an Englislnnaii than with the two artieles by Sir Grant Duff — a 
gentleman who has occupied the high positions of Under- Secretary 
of State for India and Governor of Madras. AA’^hcthcr I look to the 
superficiality and levity of his treatment of questions of serious and 
melancholy importance to India, or to the literary smartness of 
offhand reply which he so often employs in the place of argument, 
or to the mere sensational assertions which he puts fonvard as 
proofs, I cannot but feci that both the manner and matter of 
the two articles arc, in many parts, unworthy of a gentleman of 
Sir Grant Duff's position and expected knowledge. But what 
is particularly more regrettable is his attitude towards the 
educated classes, and the sneers he has levelled against higher 
education itself. If there is one thing more than another for which 
the Indian people arc peculiarly and deeply grateful to the British 
nation, and which is one of the chief reasons of their attachment 
and loyalty to British rule, it is the blessing of education which 
Britain has bestowed on India. Britain has every leason to be 
proud of, and to be satisfied with, the results, for it is the educated 
classes who realize and appreciate most the beneficence and good 
intentions of the British nation ; and by the inci'easing influence 
which they are now undoubtedly exercising over the peoj)le, they 



are the powerful chain by which India is becdming more and more 
firmly linked with Britain. This education has produced its natural 
efiects^ in promoting civilization and independence of character — a 
result of which a true Briton should not be ashamed and should 
regard as his peculiar glory. But it would appear that this indepen- 
dence of character and the free criticism passed by the educated 
classes on Sir Grant DuflTs acts have ruflic'd his composure. He has 
allowed his feelings to get the better of his judgment. I shall have 
to say a few words on this subject hereafter. 

Sir Grant Duff asks the English tourists, who go to India for 
the purpose of enlightening their countrymen when they come 
home Is it too much to ask that these last should take the 
pains to arrive at an accurate knowledge of facts before they give 
their conclusions to the world ? May I ask the same question 
of Sir Grant Duft' himself? Is it too iniich to ask him, who has 
occupied high and responsible positions, that he, as far more bound 
to do so, should take the pains to arrive at an accurate knowledge of 
facts before he gives his conclusions to the world ? Careless or 
mistaken utterances of men of his position, by misleading the British 
public, do immeasurable harm, both to England and India. 

Of the few matters which I intend to discuss there is one — th( 
most important — upon which all other questions hinge. The eorrcct 
solution of this fundamental jjroblcm will Ij^elj) all other Indian 
problems to settle themselves under the ordinary current discussions 
of every day. Before proceeding, however, with tliis fiindamental 
question, it is necessary to make one or two preliniinarv remarks to 
clear away some misapprehensions, which often confuse and complicate 
the discussion of Indian subjects. 

There are tlircc parties concerned — (1) The British nation, 
(2) those authorities to whom the Government of India is entrusted 
by the British nation, and (3; the natives of British India. 

Now, I have no complaint whatever against the British nation or 
British rule. On the contrary, wx have every reason to be thankful 
that of all the nations in the world it has been our good fortune to 
be placed under the British nation — a nation noble and great in its 
instincts ; among the most advanced, if not the most advanced in 
civilization ; foremost in the advancement of liumanity in all its 
varied wants and circumstances ; the source and fountain-head of true 
liberty and of political progress in the world; in short, a nation in 
irhich all that is just, generous, and truly free is most happily 

The British nation has done its part nobly, has laid down, and 
pledged itself before God and the world to, a policy of justice and 
generosity towards India, in which notliing is left to be desired. That 
policy is complete and worthy of its great and glorious past and present. 



No^ vre Indians have- no complaint against the British nation or 
British rule. We have everything from them to be grateful for. It 
is against its servants^ to whom itlias*entrusted our destinies^ that we 
have something of which to complain. Or rather, it is against the 
system which has been adopted by its servants, and which subverts the 
avowed and pledged policy of the British nation, that we complain, and 
against which I appeal the British people. 

Reverting to the few important matters which I desire to discuss, 
the first great question is — What is Britain’s policy towards India ? 
Sir Grant DuflF says : Of two things one : either we mean to stay 
in India and make the best of the country — directly for its own 
advantage, indirectly for that of ourselves and of mankind at large, 
or we do not.^'' Again he says : The problem is how best to 
manage for its interest, our own interest, and the interest of the 
world. . . Now, if anybody ought to know, Sir Grant Duff ought, 
that this very problem, exactly as he puts it and for the purposes he 
mentions, has been completely and exhaustively debated, decided 
upon, and the decision pledged in the most deliberate manner, in 
an Act of Parliament more than fifty years ago, and again most 
solemnly and sacredly pledged more than twenty-five years ago. Sir 
Grant Duff either forgets or ignores these great events. Let us see, 
then, what this policy is. At a time when the Indians were in 
their educational and political infancy, when they did not and could 
not understand what their political condition then was or was to be 
in the future, when they had not uttered, as far as I know, any 
complaints, nor demanded any rights or any definite policy towards 
themselves, the British nation of their own accord and pleasure, 
merely from their own sense of their duty towards the millions of 
India and to the world, deliberately declared before the world 
what their policy should be towards the people of India. Nor 
did the British people do this in any ignorance or want of 
forethought or without the consideration of all possible conse- 
quences of their action. Never was there a debate in both Houses 
of Parliament more complete and clear, more exhaustive, more 
deliberately looked at from all points of view, and more calculated 
for the development of statesmanlike policy and practical good 
sense. The most crucial point of view — that of political danger or of 
even the possible loss of India to Britain — was faced with true English 
manliness ; and the British nation, through their Parliament, then 
settled, adopted, and proclaimed to the world what their policy was 
to be — viz., the policy of justice and of the advancement of 

I can give here only a very few extracts from that famous debate 
of more than half a century ago — a debate reflecting the highest 
glory on the British name. 



Sir Robert Peel said : — 

Sure I am at least that we must |^pproach the consideration of it with a 
deep feeling, with a strong sense of Ae responsibility we shall incur, with a strong 
sense of the moral obligation which imposes it upon us as a duty to promote the 
improvement of the country and the tvellare and tvell-being of its inhabitants, 
so far as we can consistently with the safety and security of our dominion and 
the obligations by which 'we may be bound . . . . ” 


The Marquis of Lansdowne, in the House of Lords, said : — 

‘‘ But he should be taking a very narrow view of this question, and one 
utterly inadequate to the great importance of the subject, wliich involved in 
it the happiness or misery of one hundred millions of human beings, were he 
not to call the attention of their Lordships to the bearing which this question 
and to the influence which this arrangement must exercise upon the future 
destinies of that vast mass of people. lie was sure that their Lordships would 
feel, as he indeed felt, that their only justification before God and t^rovidence 
for the great and unprecedented dominion which they exercised in India was 
in the happiness av hi ch they communicated to the subjects under their rule, 
and in proving to the Avorld at large, and to the inhabitants of Ilindoostalp, 
that the inheritance of Akbar (the wisest and most beneficent of Mahon^ytdan 
princes) had not fallen into unworthy or degenerate hands . . , , ^ His 
Lordship, after announcing the policy intended to be adopted, concluded : 
“ He w^as confident that the strength of the Government would be increased 
by the happiness of the people over whom it presided, and by the attachmenr 
of those nations to it.” 

Lord Macaulay’s speech is worthy of him, and of the great nation 
to which he belonged. I have every temptation to quote the whole 
of it, but space forbids. He calls the proposed policy that wise, 
that benevolent, that noble clause, * and he adds : — 

“ I must say that, to the last day of my life, I shall be proud of having been 
one <)¥' those who assisted in the training of the BiJi whiclj contains that 

clause GoA'ernincnts, like men, may buy cxi.slence too dear. ‘Propter 

vitam A’ivendi perdere causas' ii> a despicable policy either in individuals or 
States. In the present such a jiolicy would be not only despicable, but 
absurd To the great trading nation, to the great manufacturing nation, 

no progress which any portion of the human race can make in knowledge, in 
taste for the conveniences of life, or in the Avealth by Avhich those conveni- 
ences are produced, can be matter ol indifference To trade with 

civilized men is infinitely more profitable than to govern savages. That 
would indeed be a doting Avisdoin, Avhich, in order that India might remain 
a dependency, Avould make it a useless and costly di pendency — which would 
keep a hundred millions of men from being our customers, in order that they 
might conjirme to be our slaves. It was, as Bernier tells us, the practice of 
the miserable tyrants Avhom 'he found in India, when they dreaded the capacity 
and spirit of some distinguished subject, and yet could not A'enture to murder 
him, to administer to him a daily dose of the pousta, a preparation of opium, 
the effect of which w’as in a few months to destroy all the bodily and mental 
powers of the Avretch who was drugged with it, and to turn him into a help- 
less idiot. That detestable artifice, more horrible than assassination itself, was 
worthy of those Avho employed it. It is no model for the English nation. We 
shall never consent to administer the pousta to a AvhoJe community, to stupefy 
and paralyze a great people whom God has committed to our charge, for the 



wretched purpose of rendering them more amenable to our control I 

have no fears. The path of duty is plain before us ; and it is also the path of 
wisdom, of national prosperity, of national honour. .... To have found a 
great people sunk in the lowest depths of misery and superstition, to have so 
ruled them as to have made them desirous and capable of all the privileges of 
citizens would indee^ be a title to glory — all our own. The sceptre may 
pass away from us. Unforeseen accidents may derange our most profound 
schemes of policy. Victory may be inconstant to our arms. But there are 
triumphs which are follow by no reverses. There is an empire exempt 
from all natural causes of decay. Those triumphs are the pacific triumphs of 
reason over barbarism ; that empire is the imperishable empire of our arts 
and our morals, our literature and our law.” 

Now what was it that was so deliberately decided upon — that which 
was to promote the welfare and well-being of the millions of India, 
involve their happiness or misery, and influence their future destiny ; 
that which was to be the only justification before God and Providence 
for the dominion over India ; that which was to increase the strength 
of the Government and secure the attachment of the nation to it ; 
and that which was wise, benevolent and noble, most profitable to 
English trade and manufacture, the plain path of duty, wisdom, 
national prosperity, and national honour, and calculated to raise a 
people sunk in the lowest dcptlis of misery and superstition, to pros- 
perity and civilization ? It was this noble clause in the Act of 1833, 
worthy of the British character for justice, generosity, and humanity ; 
‘^That no native of the said territories, nor any natural-bom subject 
of his Majesty resident therein, shall, by reason only of his religion, 
place of birth, descent, or any of them, be disabled from holding any 
place, oflice, or employment under the said Company.^^ 

I now ask the first question. Is this deliberately declared policy 
honestly promised, and is it intended by the British nq^tion to be 
honestly and honourably fulfilled ; or is it a lie and a delusion, meant 
only to deceive India and the world? This is the first clear issue. 

It must be remembered, as I haAe already said, that this wise and 
noble pledge W'as given at a time w hen the Indians had not asked for 
it. It w^as of Britaki^s own will and accord, of her own sense of duty 
towards a great people whom Providence had entrusted to her care, 
that qhe deliberated and gave the pledge. The pledge was given with 
grace and unasked, and was therefore the more valuable and more to 
Britain's credit and renown. But the authorities to whom the per- 
formance of this pledge was entrusted by the British nation did not 
do their duty, and left the pledge a dead letter. Then came a time 
of trouble, and Britain triumphed over the Mutiny. But what did 
she do in that moment of triumph ^ Did she retract the old, great; 
and noble pledge ? Did she say, You have proved unworthy of it, 
and I withdraw No ! True to her instincts of justice, she once 

more and still more emphatically and solemnly proclaimed to the 
world the same pledge, even in greater completeness and in every 



form. By the mouth of our great Sovereign, did she once more give 
her pledge, calling God to witness and seal it and bestow his blessing 
thereon ; and this did the gracious proclamation of 1858 proclaim to 
the world : 

“ We hold ourselves bound to the natives of oiir Indian territory by the 
same obligations of duty which bind us to all our other subjects ; and those 
obligations, by the blessing of Almighty Go^, we shall faithfully and con- 
scientiously fuldl. 

And it is our further will that, so far as may be, our subjects, of whatever 
race or creed, be freely and impartially admitted to otiices in our service, the 
duties of which tliey may be qualified by their education, ability, and integrity 
duly to discharge. 

“ In their prosperity will he our strength, in their contentment our security, 
and in their gratitude our best reward. And may the God of all power grant 
to us and to those in authority under us strength to carry out these our wishes 
for the good of our people." 

Can pledges more sacred, more clear, and more binding before God 
and man be given ? 

I ask this second question. Are these pledges honest promises of 
tbe British Sovereign and nation, to be faithfully and conscientiously 
fulfilled, or arc they only so many lies and delusions? I cau;and do 
expect but one reply : that these sacred promises were made honestly, 
and meant to be honestly and honourably fulfilled. The whole Indian 
problem hangs upon these great pledges, upon wliich the blessings and 
help of God are invoked. It would be an insult and an injustice to 
the British nation, quite unpardonable in me — with my personal 
knowledge of the British people for more than thirty years — if I for 
a moment entertained the shadow of a doubt with regard to the 
honesty of these pledges. 

The third question is — Whether these pledges have been faith- 
fully and conscientiously fulfilled ? The whole po.sition of India is 
this : If these solemn pledges be faithfully and conscientiously ful- 
filled, India w ill have nothing more to desire. Had these pledges 
been fulfilled, what a different tale of congratulation should we have 
had to tell to-day of the prosperity and advancement of India and of 
great benefits to and blessings upon England. But it is useless to 
mourn over the past. The future is still before us. 

I appeal to the British nation that these sacred and solemn 
promises should be hereafter faithfully and conscientiously fulfilled. 
This will satisfy all our wants. This will realize all the various 
consequences, benefits, and blessings which the statesmen of 1833 
'have foretold, to England's eternal glory, and to the benefit of 
England, India, and the world. The non-fulfilment of these 
pledges has been tried for half a century, and poverty and degrada- 
tion are still the lot of India. Let us have, I appeal, for half a 
century the conscientious fulfilment of these pledges^ and no man 



can hesitate to foretell^ as the great statesmen of 1833 foretold, 
that India will rise in prosperity and civilization, that " the strength 
of the Government would be increased by the happiness of the people 
over whom it presided, and by the attachment of those nations to it.” 
As long as fair trial is not given to these pledges it is idle, and 
adding insult to injury, to decide anything or to seek any excuses 
against us and against tr.'' fulfilment of the pledges. 

If this appeal is granted, if the British nation says that its honest 
promises must be honestly fulfilled, every other Indian question will 
find its natural and easy solution. If, on the other hand, this appeal 
shall go in vain — which I can never believe will be the case — the 
2 )resent unnatural system of the non-fulfilment of the great policy 
of 1833 and 1858 will be an obstacle and a complete prevention of 
the right and just solution of any other Indian question whatever. 
From the seed of injustice no fruit of justice can ever be produced. 
Thistles will never yield grapes. 

I now come to the second important question — the present 
material condition of India, as the natural result of the non-fulfil- 
ment of the great pledges. ^Mr. Samuel Smith had remarked that there 
was among the well-educated natives a widespread belief that India is 
getting poor^fr and less happy and he has subsequently expressed 
his own impressions : “ The first and deepest impression made upon 
me by this second visit to India is a heightened sense of the poverty 
of the country.” Now, to such a serious matter, what is Sir Grant 
Duffys reply ? First, a sneer at the educated classes and at higher 
education itself. Next, he gives a long extract from an address of 
the local reception committee of die town of Bezwada, in which, says 
the address, by means of an anicut, At one stroke the mouths of a 
hungry and dying people have been filled with bread, and the coffers 
of the Government with money.” Now, can levity and unkindness 
go any further ? This is the reply that a great functionary gives to 
Mr. Smithes serious charge about the poverty of India. AVhat can 
the glowing, long extract from the address of the committee of 
jBezwada mean, if Sir Grant Duff did not thereby intend to lead 
the British public into the belief that, because the small town of 
Bezwada had acknowledged a good thing done for it, therefore 
in all India all was hapjiy and jirospering ? However, Sir Grant 
DuflF could not help reverting, after a while, to the subject a little 
more seriously, and admitting that there is in many parts of India 
frightful poverty.^^ What, then, becomes of the glowing extract 
from the Bezwada address, and how^ was that a reply to Mr. Smith^ 
charge? However, even after making the admission of the ^^fright- 
ful poverty in many parts of India,” he disposes oflF-haud of the grave 
matter — remarking that other people in other countries are also 
poor, as if that were a justification ot “ the frightful poverty in many 


parts of India/^ under a rule like that of the British, and conducted 
by a serrice the most highly praised and the most highly paid in the 
world ? Sir Grant DuflF, with a cruel levity, only asks two or three 
questions, without any proof of his assumptions and without any 
attention to the circumstances of the comparisons, and at once falls 
foul of the educated classes, as if thereby he gave a complete reply 
to the complaint about the poverty, ^ow, these are the three 
questions he puts : — “ The question worth answering is : Do the Indian 
masses obtain, one year with another, a larger or smaller amount 
of material well-being than the peasantry of Western Europe? ” And 
he answers himself : Speaking of the huge province of Madras, 
which I, of course, know best — and I have visited every district in it 
— I think they do. . . They do what ? Do they obtain a larger 
or smaller amount ? His second question is : but is there not the 
same, and even worse, in our own country? And lastly, he brings 
down his clincher thus : — ‘‘ As to our system ‘ draining the country of 
its wealth,’ if that be the case, how is it visibly increasing in wealth ? ” 
And he gives no proof of that increased wcaltli. Thus, then, docs 
Sir Grant Duff settle the most serious questions connected with India. 
First, a sneer at educated men and higher education, then the frivolous 
argument about the town of Bezwada. and afterwards three off-hand 
questions and assertions without any proof. In this way docs a* former 
Under-Secretary of State for India, and only lately a ruler of thirty 
millions of people, inform and instruct the British public on the most 
burning Indian questions. We may now, however, see what Sir Grant 
Duff’s above three questions mean, and what they arc worth, and how' 
wrong and baseless his assertions are. 

Fortunately, Mr, Grant Duff has already replied to Sir Grant 
Duff. We are treated by St Grant Duff to a long c.xtract frojm his 
Budget speech of 1873, He might have as well favoured us, to 
better purpose, with an extract or two from some of his other 
speeches. In 1870 Mr. Grant Duff asks Sir Wilfrid Lawson a 
remarkable question during the debate on Opium. He asks : Would 
it be tolerable that to enforce a view of morality which was not 
theirs, which had never indeed been accepted by any large portion 
of the human race, we should grind an already poor population to 
the very dust with new taxation ? Can a more complete reply be 
given to Sir Graut^s present questions than this rejdy of Mr. Grant 
Duff : that the only margin that saves an already poor population 
from being ground to the very dust is the few millions that are 
* obtained by poisoning a foreign country (China). 

Again Mr, Grant Duff‘ supplies another complete reply to Sir 
Grant Duffys questions. In his Budget speech of 1871, he thus 
depicts the poverty of India as compared with the condition of 
England — one of the countries of Western Europe ” and the our 



own country of his questions. Just at that time I had, in a rough 
way, shown that the whole production or income of British India 
was about Rs. 20 (405.) per head per annum. Of this Mr. Grant 
Duff made the following use in 1871. He said: ^^The position of 
the Indian financier is altogether difierent from that of the English one. 
Here you have a comparatively wealthy population. The income of 
the United Kingdom has, I believe, been guessed at £800,000,000 
per annum. The incomL’of British India has been guessed at 
£300,000,000 per annum. That gives well on to £30 per annum as 
the income of every person of the United Kingdom, and only £2 per 
annum as the income of every person in British India. Even our 
comparative wealth will be looked back upon by future ages as a state of 
semi-barbarism. But what are we to say of the state of India ? How 
many generations must pass away before that country has arrived 
at even the comparative wealth of this ? 

But now Sir Grant Duff ignores his own utterances as to how 
utterly difierent the cases of England and India are. ^ Mr. Grant 
Dufies speech having been received in India, Lord Mayo thus com- 
mented upon it and confirmed it : — 

“I admit the comparative poverty of this country, as compared with many 
other countries of the same magnitude and importance, and I am convinced 
of the impolicy and injustice of imposing burdens upon this people which 
may be called either crushing or oppressive. Mr. Grant Duff, in un able 
speech which he delivered the other day in the House of Commons, the report 
of which arrived by the last mail, stated with truth that the position of our 
finance was wholly different from that of England. ‘ In England,' he stated, 

‘ you have comparatively a wealthy population. The income of the United 
Kingdom has, I believe, been guessed at £800,000,000 per annum; the 
income of British India has been guessed at £300,000,000 per annum : 
goes well on to £30 per annum as the income of every person in the United 
Kingdom, and onl}’’ £2 per annum as the income of every person in British 
India.' I believe, that Mr. Grant Duff* had good grounds for the statement 
he made, and I wish to say, with reference to it, that we are perfectly cognisant 
of the relative poverty of this country as compared with European States.” 

Here again is another answer to Sir Grant Duff’s questions, by 
the late Finance Minister of India. Major (Sir) E. Baring, in proof 
of his assertion of “ the extreme poverty of the mass of the people 
of British India, makes a comparison not only with the Western 
countries of Europe but with the poorest country in Europe.^' 
After stating that the income of India was not more than Rs. 27 per 
head, he said, in his Budget speech of 18S2 : In England, the 
average income per head of population was £33 per head ; in France 
r it was £23 ; in Turkey, which was the poorest country in Europe, it • 
was £4 per head.’^ 

It will be seen, then, that Mr. Grant Duff and a higher authority 
than Sir Grant Duff have already fully answered Sir Grant Duff's 
questions. The only thing now remaining is whether Sir Grant Duff 


will undertake to prove that the income of British India has now 
become equal to that of the Western countries of Europe ; and if 
so, let him give us his facts and figures to prove such a statement — 
not mere allusions to the prosperity of some small towns like Bezwada, 
or even to that of the Presidency towns, but a complete estimate of 
the income of all British India, so as to compare it with that of 
England, France, or “Western countries of Europe.” 

I may say here a word or two abeut "the huge province of 
Madras, which,” says Sir Grant, " I, of course, know best, and I 
have visited every district in it.” We may see now whether he has 
visited with his eyes open or shut. I shall be glad if Sir Grant Duff 
will give us figures to show that Madras to-day produces as much as 
the Western countries of Europe. 

■Sir George Campbell, in his paper on tenure of land in India, says, 
from an official Report of 1869, about the Madras Presidency, that 
"the bulk of the people are paupers.” I have just received an 
extract from a friend in India. Mr. W. R. Robertson, Agricultural 
Reporter to the Government of Madras, says of the agricultural 
labourer : — 

"His condition is a disgrace to any country calling itself civilized. In tin? 
best seasons the gross income of himself and his family docs . not exceed iW. 
per day throughout the year, and in a bad season their circumstances are iiiost 
deplorable. ... I have seen something of Ireland, in which the condition of 
afiairs bears some resemblance to those of this country, but the condition 
of the agricultural population of Ireland is vastly superior to the condition of 
the similar classes in this country.” 

There cannot be any doubt about the correctness of these views ; 
for, as a matter of fact, as I have worked out the figures in my paper 
on " The Poverty of India,” tlie income of the Madras Presidency 
in 1868-69 was only about Rs. 18 per head per annum. 

Such is the Madras Presidency, which Sir Grant Dufi* has visited 
with his eyes apparently shut. 

I shall now give a few statements about the " extreme poverty ” of 
British India, by persons whose authority would be admitted by Sir 
Grant Duff as far superior to his own. In 1861 Sir John (afterwards 
Lord) Lawrence, then Viceroy, said : " India is on the whole a very 
poor country ; the mass of the population enjoy only a scanty sub- 
sistence.” And again, in 1873, he repeated his opinion before the 
Finance Committee, that the mass of the people were so miserably poor 
that they had barely the means of subsistence. It was as much as a 
man could do to feed his family, or half-feed them, let alone spending 
'money on what might be called luxuries or conveniences. In 1881 Dr. * 
(Sir W.) Hunter, the best official defender of the British Indian 
Administration, told the British public that 40,000,000 of the people 
of British India " go through life on insuflScient food.” This is an 



ofiScial admission, but I have no moral doubt that, if full inquiries 
were made, twice forty millions or more would be found "going through 
life on insuflScient food,^' and what wonder that the very touch of 
famine should destroy hundreds of thousands or millions. Coming 
down at once to the latest times : Sir E. Baring said, in his finance 
speech in 1882 : — 

“ It has been calculated that the average income per head of population in 
India is not more than lis. 2 « a*year ; and, though I am not prepared to pledge 
myself to the absolute accuracy of a calculation of this sort, it is sufficiently 
accurate to justify the ''onclusion that the tax-paying community is exceedingly 
poor. To derive any very large increase of revenue from so poor a population 
as this is obviously impossible, and if it were possible would be unjustifiable.” 

Again, in the course of the debate he repeated the statement about 
the income being Es. 27 per head per annum, and said in connection 
with salt revenue : But he thought it was quite sufficient to show 
the extreme poverty of the mass of the people/^ Then, after stating 
the income of some of the European countries, as I have stated them 
before, he proceeded : He would ask honourable members to think 
what Rs. 27 per annum was to support a person, and then he would ask 
whether a few annas was nothing to such poor people.^^ I asked Sir 
E. Baring to give me his calculations to check with mine, but he 
declined. But it does not matter much, as even “ not more than 
Es. 27 is extreme poverty of the mass of the people. Later still the 
present Finance Minister, in his speech on the Income Tax, in January 
1886, described the mass of the people as ^^men whose income 
at the best is barely sufficient to afford them the sustenance neces- 
sary to support life, living, as they do, upon the barest necessaries of 

Now, what are wc to think of an English gentleman who has 
occupied the high and important positions of an Under-Secretary of 
State for India and Governor of the thirty millions of Madras, and 
who professes to feel deep interest in the people of India, treating 
such grave matters as their extreme poverty and " scanty subsist- 
ence with light-hcarlcdncss like this, and coolly telling them and 
the British public that the people of Bezwada were gloriously pros- 
perous, and that there, “ at one siroke, the mouths of a hungry and 
dying people have been filled with bread and the coffers of the 
Government with money ! ” 

I shall now give a few facts and figures , in connection with the 
condition of India, and with some of the other questions dealt with 
by Sir Grant Duff. First, with regard to the poverty to which Mr. ^ 
Samuel Smith referred. Sir Grant Duff may rest assured that I 
shall be only too thankful to him for any correction of my figures 
by him or for any better information. I have no other object than 
the truth. 



In my paper on "The Poverty of India,'' have worked out from 
official figures that the total income of British India is only B»s. 20 
(40^.^ or^ at present exchange^ nearer 30«.) per head per annum. It 
must be remembered that the mass of the people cannot get this 
average of Rs. 20^ as the upper classes have a larger share than 
the average ; also that this Bs. 20 per head includes the in- 
come or produce of foreign planters or producers, in which the 
interest of the natives does not go further than being mostly 
common labourers at competitive wages. All the profits of such 
produce are enjoyed by, and carried away from the country by, the 
foreigners. Subsequently, in my correspondence with the Secretary 
of State for India in 1880, I placed before his lordship, in detailed 
calculations based upon ofiicial returns, the income of the most 
favoured province of the Punjab and the cost of absolute necessaries of 
life there for a common agricultural labourer. The income is, at 
the outside, Rs. 20 per head per annum, and the cost of living Rs. 34. 
No wonder then that forty or eighty millions or more people of 
British India should " go through life on insufficient food." My 
calculations, both in " The Poverty of India " and " Tlic Condiion 
of India" (the correspondence with the Secretary of State), have not 
yet been shown by anybody to be wrong or requiring correction. 

I shall be glad and thankful if Sir Grant Duft* would give us his 
calculations and show us that the income of British India is anything 
like that of the Western countries of Europe. 

I give a statement of the income of the different countries frona 

Mulhall’s " Dictionary 

of Statistics " : — 


Gross carDinj's 
per inhabitant. 


Grofis eamlngrs 
pi.‘r inhabitant. 

England . 

. £41 

Bcltriiim . , 

. £221 

Scotland . 


Holland . 




J )c?imark . 


United Kingdom 


Sweden and Norwa 3 


France . 




Gemany , 








Austria . 


United States . 







. 13-8' 

Australia . 


Portugal . 

. 13-6 

The table is not official. In his Progress of the World ” (1880), 
Mulhall gives — Scandinavia, £17; South America, £G; India, £2. 
What is then poor India's whole income per head ? Not even as 
much as the United Kingdom pays to its revenue only per head. 
«The United Kingdom pays to revenue nearly 50^. per head, when 
wretched India’s wffiole income is 40^. per head, or rather, at the present 
exchange, nearer 30«. than 40^. Is this a result for an Englishman 
to boast about or to be satisfied with, after a century of British 
administration ? The income of British India only a third of that of 



even the countries of South America ! Every other part of the 
British Empire is flourishing except wretched India. 

Sir Orant Duff knows well that any poverty in the countries of 
. Western Europe is not from want of wealth or income^ but from 
unequal distribution. Bttt British India has her whole production 
or income itself most wretched. There is no wealth, and therefore 
the question of its right distribution, or of any comparison with 
the countries of Western Europe or with England, is very far 
off indeed. Certainly a gentleman like Sir Grant Duff ought 
to understand the immense difference between the character 
of the conditions of the poor masses of British India and of 
the poor of Western Europe ; the one starving from scantiness, the 
other having plenty, but suffering from some defect in its distribu- 
tion. Let the British Indian Administration fulfil its sacred 
pledges and allow plenty to be produced in British India, and then 
will be the proper time and occasion to compare the phenomena of 
the conditions of Western Europe and British India. The question 
at present is, why, under the management of the most highly paid 
services in the world, India cannot produce as much even as the 
worst governed countries of Europe. I do not mean to blame the 
individuals of the Indian services. It is the policy, the perversion 
of the pledges, that is at the bottom of our misfortunes. Let the 
Government of India only give us every year properly made up statis- 
tical tables of the whole production or the income of the country, 
and we shall then know truly how India fares year after year, and 
we shall then see how the present system of administration is an 
obstacle to any ipatcrial advancement of India. Let us have actual 
facts about the real income of India, instead of careless opinions like 
those in Sir Grant Duff’s two articles. 

Instead of asking us to go so far as Western Europe, to compare 
conditions so utterly different from each other, Sir Grant Duff might 
have looked nearer home, and studied somewhat of the neighbouring 
native States, to institute some fair comparison under a certain simi- 
larity of circumstances. This point I shall have to refer to in the 
next article, when dealing with a cognate subject. Sir Grant Duff 
says ; I maintain that no country on the face of the earth is 
governed so cheaply in proportion to its size, to its population, and 
to the diflSculties of government.’^ Surely Sir Grant Duff knows 
better thai;^ this. Surely he knows that the* pressure of a burden 
depends upon the capacity to bear it : that an elephant may carry 
tons with ease, while a child would be crushed by a hundredweight. ' 
Surely he knows the very first axiom of taxation — that it should be 
in proportion to the means of the taxpayer. Mulhall very properly 
says in his Dictionary : The real incidence of all taxation is better 
shown by comparison with the people’s earnings.*’ Let us see facts. 

VOL, LII. • a 



Let us see whether the incidencyp in British India is not heavier than 
that of England itself. The gross revenue of the United Kingdom 
in 1886 is ^@89^581, 301 ; the population in 1866 is given as 
86,707,418. The revenue per head will be 48tf. 9rf. The gross 
revenue of British India in 1885 isA (in d£l=ten rupees) 
j£70,690,000, and population in 1881, 198,790,000 — say roundly, in 
1885, 200,000,000. The revenue of the United Kingdom does not 
include railway or irrigation earnings : I deduct, therefore, these 
from the British Indian revenue. Deducting from £70,690,000, 
railway earnings £11,898,000, and irrigation and navigation earnings 
£1,676,000, the balance 'of gross revenue is £57,116,000, ^hich, 
taken for 200,000,000, gives 5^. 8^rf. — say 5^. 8rf. — ^per head. 
Now the United Kingdom pays 48^. 9rf. per head from an income 
of £35*2 per head, which makes the incidence or pressure of 6*92 
per cent, of the income. British India pays 5s, 8d. out of an income 
of 40s,j which makes the incidence or pressure of 14*3 per cent, of 
the income. Thus, while the United Kingdom pays for its gross 
revenue only 6*92 per cent, out of its rich income of £35*2 per 
head, British India pays out of its scantiness and starvation a gross 
revenue of 14*3 per cent, of its income ; so that, wretchedly weak 
and poor as British India is, the pressure upon it is more than 
doubly heavier than that on the enormously wealthy United King- 
dom; and yet Sir Grant Duff says that no country on the face of 
the earth is governed so cheaply as British India, and misleads the 
British public about its true and deplorable condition. But what 
is worse, and what is British Indians chief difficulty, is this ; In 
England, all that is paid by the people for revenue returns back to 
them, is enjoyed by them, and fructifies in their own pockets ; while 
in India, what the people pay as revenue dors not all retugt,. to 
them, or is enjoyed by them, or fructifies in their pockets^ A 
large portion is enjoyed by others, and carried away clean out of 
the country. This is what makes British India's economic position 

I give below the incidence of a few more countries : — Percentage 
of expenditure to income : Germany, 10*7 ; France, 13*23 ; Belgium, 
9*5; Holland, 9 61 ; Russia, 10*1; Denmark, 5*17; United States, 
8*9; Canada, 5*0; Australia, 16*2. But in all these cases, whatever 
is spent ^returns back to the people, whether the percentage is large 
or small. 

The Budget Estimate of 1887-88 is nearly £77,500,000, so the 
'percentage of incidence will increase still higher. Sir Grant DufTs 
object in this assertion is to justify the character and prove the 
success of the present British Indian policy. It will be hereafter seen 
that this very argument of his is one of the best proofs of the 
failure of this policy and of the administration based upon it. Sir 



Grant Duff says : Mr. Smith proceeds to admit that India has 
absorbed some £350^d00^000 sterling of silver and gold in the last 
forty years^ but makes the very odd remark that^ although English 
writers consider this a great proof of wealthy it is not so regarded 
in India/^ To this, what is Sir Grant Duff’s reply ? Of the same 
kind as usual*: mere careless assertions, and a fling at and mis- 
representation about the educated classes. He says : — 


“ It may suit A or B not to regard two and two as making four, but 
arithmetic is true, nevertheless ; and there is the bullion, though doubtless 
one of the greatest boons that could be conferred upon India would be to 
get the vast dormant hoards of gold and silver which are buried in the ground 
or worn on the person brought into circulation. Can that, however, be hoped 
for as long as the very people whom Mr. Smith treats as exponents of 
native opinion do their utmost to excite hostility against the British Govern- 
ment ? 

To avoid confusion I pass over for the present without notice the 
last assertion. It will be seen further on what different testimony 
even the highest Indian authorities give upon this subject. With 
regard to the other remarks, it is clear that Sir Grant Duff has 
not taken the pains to know what the natives say, and what 
the actual state of the matter is, with regard to these economic 
conditions. The best thing I can do to avoid useless controversy is 
to give in my second article a series of facts and ofiicial figures, 
instead of making bare assertions of opinion without any proofs, as 
Sir Grant Duff docs. These economic questions are of far greater 
and more serious importance, both to England and India, than Sir 
Grant.Duff and others of his views dream of. These facts and figures 
will show that British India has not received such amounts of gold 
and silver as is generally supposed, or as are more than barely adequate 
to its ordinary wants. The phenomenon of the import of bullion 
into British India is very much misapprehended, as will be shown 
in my second article ; and Sir Grant Duft'^s assertions are mis- 
leading, as such meagre, vague, and offhand assertions always are. 
By the present polity British India is prevented from acquiring any 
capital of its own, owing to the constant drain from its wretched 
income, and is on the verge of being ground down to dust. Such 
foreign capital as circulates in British India carries away its own 
profits out of British India, leaving the masses of its people *aa poor 
as ever and largely ^oing through life on insufficient food. 

, Dadabhai Naoroji. 


M USIC fulfils its most attractive and beneficent mission when the 
masses of the people .enjoy it as a recreation and a solace. It 
is a commonplace of the social reformer that men must have some 
diversion ; some occupation that shall stand between their daily toil 
on the pne hand, and their eating and sleeping on the other. If a 
diversion which elevates and refines is not at hand, one which debases, 
which tires rather than refreshes, will be chosen. Merely to con- 
demn amusements is useless ; we cannot lead men by negations. 
The point is, to occupy them healthily ; to drive out the base and 
carnal by quietly filling up their leisure with the lofty and the 

Music is pre-eminently the recreation of these later years of the 
nineteenth century. We have become a nation of dwellers in towns. 
At the beginning of the century half the population was engaged in 
agriculture, and lived amid rural surroundings. Now only one-seventh 
or one-eighth is so engaged ; the rest being occupied in industrial 
occupations, nearly all of which are carried on in towns, amid sur- 
roundings which are ugly, noisy, and often unhealthy. Thus Nature, 
which is man^s best restorer, is out of the reach of a majority of our 
populat^n. The subdivision of labour has made it more monoton- 
ous, and has increased the appetite for recreation when work is done. 
There are, of course, other recreations available for townspeople, such 
as painting and the study of science and literature. But for two 
reasons music is always likely to hold a chief place : first, it can be 
enjoyed by tired people — it restores the balance either to brain or 
limbs; second, it is social — whether in listening or performing, 
people are brought together, and thus one of the strongest and most 
universal of human instincts is satisfied. It may be added that our 



aggregation in towti^ however much it has done to destroy the 
picturesqueness of life, has been distinctly favourable to musical cul- 
ture, which thrives best in places where people can meet constantly 
and in large numbers. 

In a review of the present musical position of the masses, one 
turns naturally in the first place to the elementary schools. These 
are the key to the position. Musical education is best begun early, 
and if our men and women are to be singers and players, to possess 
an intelligent appreciation for music, the foundations of taste and 
skill must be laid when they are boys and girls at school. Nor is 
music to be cultivated in schools only as a preparation for its use in 
adult life. As an element of school work it is invaluable. The 
studies which tax the memory and the reason are relieved by one 
which stirs the emotions and the sense of beauty, which tunes the 
car and disciplines the rhythmical sense. Singing is not a ^^bread- 
and-butter subject,’’ but in the balancing of character it is of the 
greatest value. Singing has always been a part of school work, but 
for many years the Government were satisfied if a few songs were 
learnt by ear, and they gave no extra grant for singing by note. For 
the past few years, however, the full grant has only been paid to 
those schools which pass a collective examination in notation, the 
singers by ear having to be content with half the grant. This 
change has already borne good fruit. The latest returns show that in 
England and Wales 39*9 per cent, of schools sing by note. Four 
years ago these figures stood at 1G*6 per cent. It is apparent, more- 
over, from a second table in the returns, that it is the small (country) 
schools that sing by ear, and the large (town) schools that sing by 
note. For we find that the average attendance in the schools which 
teach singing by note is 1,730,827, w'hile the average attendance in 
those which teach singing by ear is 1,720,358. A minority is thus 
converted this year into a majority, and it is satisfactory to be able 
to say that more than half of the school children in England and 
Wales now sing by Uote. It should be the effort of the friends of 
school music steadily to reduce the proportion of car-singers. There 
are several ways in which the Government and school authorities 
can accomplish this : first by withdrawing altogether the grant for 
singing by ear, and requiring a few songs to be sung as a condition 
of the grant for discipline ; second, by offering an extra grant for 
excellence in singing. Singing is a subject in which the teachers 
require help and advice far more than they do in the ordinary subjects 
of their school. The principal School Boards have adopted the plan 
of a music superintendent, who visits the schools, less to inspect than 
to advise and to give short specimen lessons when the teaching is weak. 
An extension of this plan to the country schools is desirable. Some 
propose that the subject should be taught by visiting professional 



miisiciansj others would put it uuder the control^of a special staff of 
musical inspectors acting straight from the Education Department. 
Soth these schemes may be dismissed as expensive and unnecessary. 
The teachers themselves must do the work, and the experience of the 
past few years has proved that the ordinary inspectors are competent 
to conduct the examination. 

I have made a point of inspecting the music teaching in the 
elementary schools of the principal towns of France, Germany, 
Switzerland, Austria, and Italy, and 1 can testify that in the best 
English schools singing is being more thoroughly taught than anywhere 
on the Continent. This is especially the case in regard to singing at 
sight. One often hears most refined school singing in Germany, but 
the parts are learned by ear. The system of imperial grants which 
obtains in this country has a powerful effect in bringing the schools 
up to a common level of attainment. 'Where schools depend entirely 
upon local funds such a subject as singing has a precarious existence. 
Thus in the United States * of 310 cities, with 708,000 scholars on the 
roll, 93 report no instruction in music, urging in excuse the poverty 
of the town, want of skill in the teachers, preference for the three 
R^s only, &c. Of these 93 no less than 45 teach singing by ear. 

In the size and frequency of our children’s concerts we are also 
unsurpassed. The choruses of children which assemble every spring 
and summer at Exeter Hall and the Crystal Palace represent 
hundreds of other choirs in the principal towns of England, Wales, 
and Scotland, doing the same work. Often these children submit to 
a public testing of their powers of singing at sight. Most of this 
work, both in the schools and in the concert-room, is done by the 
tonic sol-fa notation, which makes the acquirement of musical skill 
by children easy and interesting. In after-life they can continue to 
sing from it, or they can quickly transfer their knowledge to the staff 

A great point is to connect school music with the higher musical 
life of the country, and draft the children, as 'they grow up, into 
choral societies and orchestral bands. Birmingham has taken the 
lead in the latter direction. A scholars' band, under the charge of 
the music superintendent to the School Board, has made several public 
appearances with credit. 

In the United Kingdom, State aid to music is practically con- 
fined, at the present time, to the elementary schools. On the 
Continent, as it is hardly necessary to remark, far more is done in 
this direction. Every town of importance has its music school, ^ 
where young people can get instruction at low fees, or without any 
fee at all when striking talent is joined to poverty. It is an 

* Paper read at the Music Teachers* Convention at New York, July 1885, by the 
Hon. John Eaton, Commiesioner of Education. 



interesting question* Jjow far our municipalities will in the future 
undertake this kind of work. The Guildhall School of Music, in 
spite of its size and enormous success^ is not a case in pointy because 
the funds which support it are not^raised by direct taxation, and its 
formation is not the act of the* inhabitants of London. 

At Cork, the Municipal School of Music, founded in 1878, has had 
a useful and prosperous cgireer, and is the chief example of rate-aided 
music teaching to be met with in the kingdom. 

It appears that in 1877, doubts having risen as to whether the 
term art,’^ which occurs in tlie Public Libraries Act, included 
music, a special Act, applicable to Ireland only, was passed, expressly 
sanctioning the teaching of music by municipal schools. Upon this 
Act the Cork School of Music was founded. For the first six years 
it received as its proportion of the local rate sums varying from £250 
to ^300 a year, but the Corporation have of late been spending so 
liberally on their science and drawing schools that they have been 
unable to hand over to the music department more than £100 a year. 
The school, which annually is inspected by an independent musician, 
has 180 students in its day and night classes, paying £700 a year 
in fees for their instruction. Thirty-three free seholarships are also 
available. The reduction in its income from the town has greatly 
crippled the school, and at the close of last year the Committee sent 
a memo/ial to the Government, asking them to establish a system of 
grants upon results in music teaching similar to those given for 
drawing and science. Pending the establishment of such a scheme, 
the Committee asked the Government to make them an annual grant 
equal in amount to whatever sum they are able to raise from the 
town rates and private subscriptions. The Government declined the 
proposal altogether, and said that they could not entertain the 
question of a grant from public money in aid of a local music school. 
It remains to be seen what will become of the Cork School. 

At Watford in Hertfordshire there is a school of music which is 
nominally under the Free Libraries Act, but has something of a 
voluntary basis. The Free Library, where its teaching goes on, was 
built by public subscription, and banded over to the Local Board, 
whose property it is. In the early days of the school it paid no 
rent, which was equal to a subsidy of £50 a year. Now it pays the 
Free Library 10 per cent, on all fees. The income is derived from 
students^ payments, and about £50 a year in voluntary subscriptions. 
There are now between 300 and 400 students, and several exhibitions 
are offered. The committee of the school is appointed by the Local 
Board. The Rev. Newton Price, the able and energetic chairman of 
the Council, meets my doubts as to whether the Watford school can 
really be described as a municipal institution by saying : “ It would 
not be said that the Post-office is not a branch of the public service be- 



cause it pays its way/^ It is clear^ however, that the school is self- 
supporting, so that the ratepayers^ generosity has never been tested, 
and the question whether music is a lawful subject of expenditure 
for corporations Under the Free Libraries Act, elsewhere than in 
Ireland, has not been raised. 

The chief way in which the Corporations of our large towns haj^e 
taken up music is by providing organ recitals and performances by 
bands. Thus at Liverpool organ recitals have been held in St. 
George’s Hall for many years. Mr. Best, organist to the Corporation, 
is the performer, and the public ^re charged sixpence for admission 
on Thursday evenings and Saturday afternoons, and a penny for 
admission on Saturday evenings. At Manchester organ recitals 
are given in the Town Hall every Saturday evening, at a charge of 
threepence for admission. The Corporation further subsidizes the 
police band to the extent of .€50 a year, and engages other bands to 
play in the public pai’ks* At Birmingham the Town Council lend 
the Town Hall freely for popular organ recitals, but the instrument 
which stands in the hall does not belong to them, but to the General 
Hospital, which promotes for its own benefit the well-known Trien\\ial 
Musical Festival. The hospital leased the organ to the late Mr. 
Stimpson, who had the sole right to perform upon it. Recitals on 
Saturday afternoons have been given for many years at charges of 
and 3e/., and they have been continued by local organists since 
Mr. Stimpson’s death. Leeds has also its Corporation organist and 
recitals. In Glasgow the Corporation have taken an active part in 
music. For several years past they have given organ recitals in the 
City Hall on Saturday afternoons during the winter months. The 
hall, which holds 3,000 people, is generally filled. So long as the 
entertainment consisted entirely of organ music the admission was 
free ; now that choirs, bands, solo singers, solo jdayers, and elocu- 
tionists are ehgaged, a charge of a penny is made for admission to 
the body of the hall, and of threepence to the balcony. Each visitor 
receives gratuitously a programme, and as the margins of these 
leaflets are let out for advertisements, the cost of printing is met. 
In the snmmer months the Corporation engage military and volun- 
teer bands to play in the four public parks and in two of the public 
squares. Last season 112 performances were given, attended by 
505,400 persons. The year before there were 120 performances, 
attended by 815,000 persons. The total cost to the city of these 
performances in 1886 was £701 lOs. This snmmer the Corporation 
•has taken a new step by engaging choirs of cliildrcn from the public 
schools to sing in the parks. 

The work thus undertaken by Corporations has also been carried 
on in several places by voluntary agency. At the Bow and Bromley 
Institution, near London, Saturday evening organ recitals, interspersed 
with vocal music, have for many years been given at prices no higher 

TSE progress of popular music. 241 

than those charged by the Corporations. The Birmingham Musical 
Association^ founded in 1879, has for its object the supply of cheap 
concerts of high-class music for the benefit of the people. For seven 
years twenty or thirty concerts have been given in the Town Hall on 
Saturday afternoons during each winter. The prices of admission 
have been sixpence and threepence. No report has been printed 
since 1885, but this shows that the total number of persons attend- 
ing that season’s performances was 44,412, giving an average of 
1,931 (1,209 at threepence and 722 at sixpence). The music has 
been drawn from the works of great masters, interpreted by the 
amateur band and amateur choral society, which the association 
supports, aided by soloists. The resjjlt, however, is only partially satis- 
factory. The audiences are too respectable. The sixpenny admissions 
increase, while the threepenny admissions decrease. Thus the 
income grows, and the numbers attending slightly fall off. The 
committee attribute the result to depression of trade, which deprives 
the working people of spare money. It is, however, probably due 
to the music being too good for the people. We must not flatter 
ourselves with the belief that at present a popular English audience 
can be held together year after year by classical music. A genera- 
tion of work will be needed before that much-to-be-desired musical 
consummation can be reached. 

But the oldest and largest scheme of cheap concerts conducted 
by voluntary effort is that of the Abstainers’ Union at Glasgow. 
Thirty-four years ago this temperance society, with true foresight, 
saw that the way to fight the public-houses ind music-halls was by 
starting a counter-attraction. The concerts were not long in 
winkling their way to public favour, and they have had a long and 
remarkable success. Singers and players of the first rank in 
London, and indeed in Europe, have been engaged, and there has 
been a steady rise in the public taste, which now demands good 
music of every class. The St. Andrew’s Hall, at the west end of 
the city, has been engaged by the Union for the past few years for a 
simultaneous series of concerts similar to those in the City Hall. 
Up to within the last year or so the expenses have always been met 
by the payments, which range from threepence to two shillings, and 
an infinite amount of enjoyment and culture must have been dififfised. 
The Corporation entertainments, deseribed above, are, however, now 
held in the same building on Saturday afternoons, and are seriously 
affecting the Abstainers’ concerts. The competition is of course 
unequal,^ and the voluntary society will, it is feared, go to the walL 
This result must occur in many places as municipal subsidies to 
concerts and music schools are extended. The Guildhall School of 
Music has seriously injured the private music teachers of London, 
and even large suburban music schools established by voluntary 
effort, like the South London Institute of Music at 'Camberwell, feel 



tke difficulty of competing with an institution that nof only attracts 
by its ske and its name, but offers music teaching at three-quarters 
of its real cost. I express no opinion on the extension of municipal 
or Government aid to music, but point out the hardships of Ae period 
of transition from voluntaryism. 

The admirable work done in London by the Popular Ballad Concert 
Committee and the People^s Entertainment Society in providing music 
for the poor must also be mentioned, ^ight by night, during the 
winter, little companies of singers and players, organked by these 
societies, set out from their homes in Kensington and other fashionable 
suburbs, and make a descent upon the poverty-stricken districts of 
the east of London, where they Relight their audiences by musical 
performances and readings. 

So far, we have been concerned with the supply of music to the 
people in concert-halls and parks. The secret of musical growth 
depends, however, far more upbn making the people sing and play 
to themselves and to each other in their homes and in village school- 
rooms, and clubs. What report can be given in this direction? The 
love of music among our people is as keen as that of any nation. 
Every one who qualifies himself by observation of popular habits will 
admit this. The rustics claim first attention, and of these a wellr 
informed writer says ; There are very few lads, be they farm 
labourers, shepherds, or the aristocracy of rural life, the carpenters 
or little shopkeepers’ assistants, who do not aspire to play some 

The writer goes on !o say that formerly the concertina or melodion 
was the height of rural ambition, but that now a violin or a small 
harmonium may often be found in a cottage. She describes a brass 
band, formed a few years ago in a village in the south-west of 
England, in which the first cornet is a day labourer earning fourteen 
shillings a week. A shepherd beats the drum, and one or two of the 
other members are occupied in menial work in a paper-mill. One 
would like to see such examples multiplied. A Norfolk clergyman, 
writing to me, says that the labourers around him are decidedly 
musical, superior both for ear and voice to their brethren of Sussex 
and Berkshire. The concertina and accordeon are the cottage 

In the towns and the large villages brass bands are the most 
popular musical occupation of the working men. A firm of brass- 
band music publishers inform me that they have the names of over 
•5,000 brass bands on their books ; and that the Brtzss Bdnd News 
reports not less than 200 competitions every year. In this depart- 
ment the south of England is singularly behind the north. The 
coippetitions excite the greatest interest. Dr. Spi|rk informs me 
that, #hen adjudicating at these meetings in Yoipshire, he has 


frequently been ihet on. his arrival by a policeman, ivho has taken 
him in charge, remained at his side aJl day, and prevented any of the 
competitors holding private intercourse with him, lest his judgment 
should be deflected by personal considerations. 

It is much to be regretted that these brass bands do not tone 
down their blare by the addition of flutes, clarionets, oboes, &c., 
making a properly balance^ military Iband. A good authority tells 
me that it is not the diflSculty of learning the instruments of the 
wood band which stands in the way of this reform so much as the 
British love of noise. The people want plenty of tone, and the brass 
band gives it. As the popular taste rises this defect will be remedied. 

Even the military band bids fair to be superseded in popular use 
at no distant time by the complete orchestra. The number of persons 
learning the violin has enormously increased during the last few 
years. The oblong cases that may be seen in nearly every street are 
witness to this. A leading firm of importers tell me that their sales 
of violins have tenfolded in the last ten years : a fact which suggests 
Ifie additional question, why all these instruments should be made in 

Striking evidence of the refinement of the popular taste for music 
is nfibrded by the improvement which street music has undergone 
during the last few years. Both as to [quality and quantity the 
demand governs the supply, and if our street music is more often ex- 
pressive and in tunc than it used to be, this is simply because such 
music is found to sell better than the coarser article which used to 
be served. 

It is probably the love of force and noise in music that, while it 
attracts the British workman to the brass band, prevents him taking 
to singing. We have nothing in England corresponding to the 
Orpheonist societies in France. I have often been present at per- 
formances by these French working men, and have remarked what 
genuine sons of toil they are. At a Sunday festival they are of 
course in broadcloth/ but if you hunt them up at rehearsal in the 
working-class quarters of Paris or •any other large town, you will 
find them singing away in their blouses. The Orpheonists include 
both brass bands and choral societies. Sometimes a party of men 
will compete as a band, and then drop their instruments and compete 
as a choir. In Belgium the order flourishes even more than in 
France. It will be a good thing when we can collect a choir in 
which the men shall be policemen, carters, butchers, and out-door 
workers of every kind. Just now there is a great opportunity for* 
male-voice choirs at the political clubs which are multiplying so 

But though male-voice choirs of working men are not common, 
mixed choirs of boys and men, or of women and men, especially in 



oonnection with churches and chapels, are a distinctive feature of 
English life. In this country men and women take thmr rebreations 
together, and the result is good for music and good for the hation. 
On the Continent a mixed choir is collected with the utmost diffi- 
culty ; here it is the commonest form of choral organization. Only 
a mixed choir can attack the masterpieces of the art ; the repertoire 
of the male choir is limited and monotonous. Hence it is that, 
according to the testimony of such eminent authorities as M. Gounod 
and the late Ferdinand Hiller, England is at the present time the 
exemplar of choral music to the world. Our weak point is in our 
sectional cleavages. On the Continent choral societies are but 
rarely connected with any particular church. 'Neighbours unite in 
them without regard to differences of faith. Here, however, we 
are so terribly in earnest over our religion and our politics that the 
dividing line is felt in music — not of course in the large choruses of 
our cities, but in the smaller choirs of suburbs, of lesser towns, and 
of villages. 

Wales stands, musically, by itself. The Welsh are artistic liy 
birth, and congregated in populous towns and villages, with fairly 
settled employment at good wages, choral music flourishes grMtly 
among them. Their voices, though often strained, are naturally very 
fine ; and in their singing there is an emotional power which, while 
it is impossible to describe, is irresistibly felt by erery hearer. 
There is no spectacle in Europe, or indeed in the world, similar to 
that which may be witnessed any year at the chief choral competition 
in the national Eisteddfod, when the ironworks, mines, and quarries 
of the district in which it is held are deserted, and the population 
pours to the rendezvous, sometimes as many as 11,000 paying for 
admission to the field where the Eisteddfod tent is put up. The 
musical culture of Wales is, however, less thorough than first 
appearances suggest. The great majority of the choralists sing by 
ear, and spend months in learning a competition chorus. In order 
to get the choirs to compete, the same chorus will be imposed at 
several successive Eisteddfodau, and a choir can thus make a single 
chorus go a long way, and bring in a good deal of prize-money. 
The interest of the Welsh in music is emotional rather than intellec- 
tual. They care little for theory, and have not patience to learn 
instruments. They prefer the voice, which is the most direct expres- 
sion of feeling, and they sing chiefly oratorio choruses, which are 
the apotheosis of the devotional hymns that week by week feed 
» their strong instincts of worship. 

The English working-people, in London especially, find their chief 
musical recreation in the music-hall. A distinction must be drawn 
between the West-end music-halls, which, it is to be feared, are 
wholly bad, and those in the industrial quarters of East and South 

f • 


London^ which^ bad as they are^ are attended^by a large number of 
honest working folk, ^usic in these places takes its turn with 
ventriloquism^ gymnastics^ and caricature of all kinds; even the 
singing is often little more than rhythmical talking. The sole object 
of the proprietors is to sell their beer and spirits, and the music is 
an enormouH help. The Victoria Music Hall, in the New Cut, is a 
splendid attempt to provide music and fun without encouraging habits 
of drinking. The Corporation of New York lately passed a regula- 
tion that music must never be performed at licensed houses, or in 
buildings or gardens attached to them. The result was that the. 
music-halls and beer-gardens were deserted. People did not care to 
come and drink when they could hear no music. 

The use of churches for music, both on week-days and Sundays, is 
a sign of the advancing liberality of modern feeling. Two eminent 
Nonconformist ministers in London — Dr. Parker (Congregationalist) 
and Dr. Clifford (Baptist) — have for several winters opened their 
churches on week-days for ordinary concerts of sacred and secular 
x%usic. " Whatever/^ says Dr. Clifford in justification of this, can 
make life nobler and happier and brighter belongs to the cause of God.^^ 
Others would open the churches, but have nothing in them but sacred 
music.^^ * The Rev. H. R. Haweis says boldly that the people are 
not made holy by the place, but the place by the people,” and he* 
desires that the church should be spiritually co-extensive with human 
life. In the winter many churches and chapels are now opened on 
Sunday afternoons, when the organ is played and solos from the 
oratorios are sung, without any sermon or prayers. At Northampton 
the playing of hymn-tunes and oratorio choruses by a brass band 
in one of the principal halls, after service is over on Sunday evenings, 
has attracted large crowds, and the chair has been taken by clergy- 
men and ministers of the town. In Yorkshire, during the summer 
months, bands often play and choirs sing sacred music on Sunday 
afternoons in a field. A large white sheet is spread on the ground 
at the entrance, and people toss their pence on to it as they enter, 
the proceeds going to the hospitals. • At the close of the concert the 
people will join with band and chorus in some well-known hymns. 
We close this recital with a pleasing picture drawn recently in the 
Church Times : The grounds of a rural rectory are thrown open to 
the villagers on Sunday evenings in the summer, when they listen to 
hymns sung by a choir under the direction of the rector s daughter. 

In the summer, people walked five or six miles to sit in tlie garden 
and listen to the choir. People in the village, who could not leave • 
their houses, and Iktle ones, sat in their doorways listening.” 

* This term, it maybe remarked, is somewhat equivocal, if the Adagio from the Sonata 

Path^tique is to be called secular, and ** Sowing the seed in the morning fair ’’ sacred 


2 ^ 

Attention should be* called to several local sdiemea for encouraging 
popular xnusic which are doing quiet and efiPective work. Of Ihese 
the most fruitful^ in my opinion, is that supported at Paisley by 
Mr. W. B. Barbour, M.P. It is in substance a system of payment 
for results. Any teacher of music in the town, who likes to form a 
singing or a violin class, can each year claim a capitat^pn grant on 
every pupil brought up to a certain level of attainment, tested by an 
individual examination. Beyond this there are public competitions, 
as in the Welsh Eisteddfod, in all branches of music. Every year 
there is a public distribution of prizes, and the scheme is> found most 
powerfully to stimulate the musical life of the town. Next must 
be mentioned Mr. Henry Leslie s School of Music at Oswestry. This 
is an academy where music lessons are given at low rates by compe- 
tent teachers. The students are examined every year, and a public 
competition is also held at which village choirs compete for one 
banner, town choirs for another, and young people from the country- 
side contend in song for prizes. Mr. Leslie has lately persuaded the 
Duke of Westminster to inaugurate a similar scheme on his estate 
near Chester. A professional man has been engaged, who spends his 
evenings in training choirs in six or seven villages around. Once a 
year a musical judge comes from London and pronounces upon thv: 
jnerits of the work done. At Stratford, near London, there has 
been carried on for five years a series of musical competitions on the 
model of the Welsh Eisteddfod. There arc something like thirty 
classes, in which competitions take place, and large audiences assemble 
to hear the trials. 

As a rule, the great musical festivals of our provincial towns 
have no direct influence upon the working classes. Working people, 
especially at Leeds, form a considerable part of the chorus, but the 
prices of the tickets prevent their listening to the concerts. A good 
plan has been adopted at Chatham for reaching the masses. When 
the Choral Society performs an oratorio wdth the costly accessories of 
an orchestra and professional singers of the first; rank, the prices are 
necessarily high. But the concert is repeated on tlie following* night, 
with competent but less known soloists, at prices within the reach of 
much smaller incomes. The only festival committee that undertakes 
any educational work is that at Bristol. Classes for singing and for 
the violin are held every winter in various quarters of the town by 
teachers engaged by the- Festival Society. The cost of these classes 
is nearly met by the fees paid by the pupils, but if there is any 
, deficiency the Festival Society makes it up, taking a wise and large 
*view of its obligations in promoting the musical growth of the city. 
This is the more satisfactory, as it is the inevitable tendency of a 
Festival Society to kill all the smaller concert-giving 'societies of its 
towi^ because of its large resources and pr^tige. 



The bearing of such national institutions as the Royal College of 
Music upon the masses* is also indirect and slight. By turning out 
year by year a certain number of teachers^ performers^ and (we hope) 
composers of music, the Royal College will help to raise the standard 
of public concerts, and thus will educate the national taste. Tliis 
work, it may be mentioned, has been done for many years by the 
Royal Academy of Music. But the special purpose of the Royal 
College, with its large number of free scholarships, should be to dis- 
cover and train those who possess musical talent joined to narrow 
means. At present it has only a very few students of this sort. 
The plan of open competition for scholarships is adopted, and. the 
award is made to the best, without any questions being asked as to 
means. The donors of scholarships can hardly have intended that 
their money should go to those well able to pay fees ; yet this has 
happened, to my knowledge, in several cases. A year ago I acted as 
a local examiner for the Royal College in my own neighbourhood. 
A servant-maid, with an unusually fine though untrained contralto 
voice, was unanimously passed on by my colleagues and myself to 
the final examination. We added a rider to our report 4hat as the 
girl was unable to pay the guinea demanded of all candidates at the 
final examination, we hoped that the (college would remit it. The 
reply came that the College had no funds available for such a purpose. 

I believe the girl went no further in the matter. Thus the machinery 
for discovering mute inglorious Miltons’^ breaks down at its very 
start. I cannot help feeling strongly on the matter, because I mix 
constantly in peo’^le’s music; and^from time to time, in schools and 
mission-halls, c^ ,jcially in the services of the Salvation Army, I hear 
voices of rare i -f eetness and quality, which are lost to the country 
for want of means in their possessors. A Cambridge tutor, in a letter 
to me, confesses that this plan of giving scholarships without regard 
to means is that adopted by the universities, but he adds : " For 
myself, I feel sure that a sweeping reform is needed, and will some 
day be demanded bypublic opinion.” 

There can be no doubt that the institution of popular singing 
classes by Mr. Hullah many years ago gave the first impetus to the 
modern musical revival. Mr. Ilullah’s movement was closely followed 
by the Tonic Sol-fa movement, which has attained enormous dimen- 
sions, and has for thirty years past been spreading broadcast the 
elements of musical skill. 

Here this rapid survey of a very large subject must close. The, 
outlook for popular music in the United Kingdom is full of hope.* 
The progress made during the last forty years has been great No^ 
only are the results now produced admirable, but they prepare the 
way for further advance in the future. Once establish a cult, and 
it is easily maintained. Mr. Francis Galton says that colour-blindness 



is twice as common among Quakers as it is among the rest of the 
community^ owing to their having dressed in drab for generations, 
and thus ^sused the colour sense. The converse of this is true : 
neglect a faculty, and it is weakened in our children ; cultivate it, and 
iUis strengthened. Musical culture depends less on climate and 
occupation than on untiring work. Choral music in Wales has been 
created during the last thirty years by the forcing power of the 
Eisteddfod. If we can organize our singers and players, there is no 
limit to the point of popular musical culture that may be reached by 
our people, with their deep love for the art, their vigorous public life, 
their social habits, and their good natural endowments. 

J. Spenczr Cubwen. 


T he record of that vicissitude of event ^^nd ciccumstance which 
makes up a nation’s life is left not only on the page of history. 
It may be traced less plainly, but more indelibly inscribed on the 
tastes, the feelings, the predilections, of that nation’s most ordinary 
sons and daughters. Even the literature which has no aim but 
amusement, proclaims, in no uncertain voice, the influence of a 
national past. Take up a German and an English novel of equal 
power, you miss at once in the foreign work — though, perhaps, you 
could not name the lack — the hurry, the compression, the organized 
literary effect which you find in the English one. A German novel 
is apt to make one doubt whethey Germans turn to fiction with some 
wish quite different from the desire for amusement which animates 
the subscriber to the ci?:culating library here. Let the reader who 
questions this take up Goethe's Wahlverwandtschaften ” and read 
the scene in which the hero and the two heroines lay the foundations 
of a summerhouse. * He will surely agree with the present writer 
that nothing equally tedious could have been written by an English- 
man or Frenchman of genius. The German language has yet to 
absorb the hurry of political life — in other words, it has yet to become 
literary. But Nature, as the sage says in Basselas," sets her gifts on 
the right hand and on the left, and if the political races be more literary 
we should expect the non-political to be mdre scientific. For the 
student of the physical w'orld never permits liimself to use the word 
" trivial.'* He knows no hierarchy of statements ; for him all facts 
stand on one level. All German writing seems to us permeated 
with this canon of science — dare we add Z — heresy of literature ; 
English writing^shows comparatively little (a it, French of course is 
the typical example of its absence. Let /us make the most of our 
VOL. LII. s 



inalienable privileges. The Germans may rob, us, of onr pre-eminence 
in trade, in empire, in national prestige ; they never can rival us in 
a long national past. 

Signs are not wanting, however, that if the fact is unchange- 
able, its influence on literature is somewhat less than it was. The 
ideal of the non-historic nations seems spreading ; even in fiction plot 
goes for less than it did, verisimilitude of ^detail for far more. Men 
seek to know life as it is ; much description and narrative that haa 
no other merit is justified if it be a faithful transcript of experience. 
We must thus admit a chronological arrangement of fiction, which 
somewhat confuses that which we have suggested in our division of 
the historic and non-historic races. If the simplicity and distinctness 
of the Greek drama be naturally associated with the work of tho 
sculptor ; if the glow of Shakespeare, the tender colouring of Dante^ 
give the painter his poetic refiex ; the modern school of fiction, tinged 
as it is by San abhorrence of reserve, bred ^ modern science, and 
an equality of attention to every separate interest, bred of modern de- 
mocracy, may be fitly compared with the new pictorial art which give^ 
all within the field of vision in its exact proportion and its fulness of 
detail. There is no reason, it must be remembered, that photography 
should be inartistic. As a branch of art it seems to us as yet in- 
sufficiently developed, but the canvas of the painter reflects its 
influence already ; if photography be still inartistic, art is already 
decidedly photographic. It is, to an e3^tent it never was before, a 
copy of Nature. It aims at satisfying a love of detail ; it ventures 
to challenge a comparison with its model, which in all former ages it 
would have scorned to contemplate as a possible test of its excellence. 
Travel even so short a distance into the past as from the canvas of 
Sir John Millais to that of Sir Joshua Reynolds and you perceive the 
difference distinctly; the elder painter never aimed at satisfying 
curiosity as to a hundred points on which his successor is as explicit 
as the camera itself. Reynolds tells us the mood and the character 
of high-bred men and women ; Millais adds to that perennial aim of 
portraiture, an amount of infornration about their clothes and the 
furniture of their apartments, in which the photograph alone is his 
rival. We are not prepared for a nice adjustment of our historic 
framework to our comparison. We have compared Greek art to 
sculpture, but Homer is as pictorial as Shakespeare, while Dutch art 
anticipates' the photograph. Still, on the whole, the three modes of 
representation do correspond to three phases of dramatic art, and the 
^ camera typifies the mood of an age no less than the chisel and the 
brush. It supplies vfith fitting associations a stage of literature 
in which literature has ^ome under the influence of natural science,, 
and catching something b^f that impartial view of Nature aiming at 
mere record of what is, Aas necessarily lost that selective touch 



which seeks^ in the words of Bacon, to give the soul some shadow 
of satisfaction in the things wherein it is more noble than the 

Of thia last diviiion of literature we know no better specimen 
than the great Russian writer to whose works we invite the reader’s 
attention to-day. He gives us the most trivial and the most moment- 
ous circumstances of life wkh scientific impartiality ; no other novelist 
describes such great things and such small things, as it would seem, 
with equal interest. He shows us the destiny of nations, the crash 
of armies ; he forces us to gaze into that black shadow which Han-^ 
nibal, in his legendary dream, was warned to leave unseen by avoiding 
any reverted glance ; and then he takes us to the dressing-room 
where a young lady is hurrying off to a ball, and tells us, although 
the fact has no influence whatever on the story, that a tuck had to 
be run in her dress at the last moment ! The reader will be grate- 
ful to us for sparing him further illustration of the last half of our 
description. We will enable him to form his own judgment of the 
first. Something in the following account of the effect of the first 
sight of Moscow has recalled to us the raptures of Isaiah on the fall 
of Sennacherib; we give it in the language which (although we 
have heard the English translation called the best) seems to us most 
suitable to replace the native tongue of a Russian : — 

Surpris de voir realist* ce rOve si longtemps caresso et qui lui avait paru 
si diificilc aatteindre, e’etait dans cc sentiment qu'il admirait la beaute orientale 
couchee a ses piods. Emu, terrific* presque par la certitude de la possession 
il portait ses yeux autour de lui, ct etudiait le plan dont il comparait les 
details avec ce qu’il voyait. ‘ La voila done, cette fiere capitals, * se disait il ‘ la 
voila a ma merci ! Ou est done Alexandre, et qu’en pense-t-il ? Je n’ai qu’a 
dire un mot, a fairc un signe et la capitale des Tsars sera ii jamais detruite. 
Mais ma clemence est toujours promj)te a descendre sur les vaincus 1 Aussi 
serai-je misericordieiix envers elle : je ferai inscrire sur ses antiques monuments 
de barbaric et de despotisme des paroles de justice et d'apaisement. Du haut 
de Kremlin, je dicterai des sages lois, je leur ferai comprendre ce qu'est la 
vraie civilisation, et les gchi6rations futures de boyards seront forcees de se 
rappeler avec amour le nom de leur conquerant. ‘ Boyards leur derai je tout 
a f heure, je ne beux par profiler de nion triomphe pour liumilier un souverain 
que j’estime, je vous proposerai des conditions de paix digne de vous d^ mes 
peuples. Ma presence les exaltera, car comme toujours je leur parlerai avec 
nettete et grandeur. Qu’on m^amene les boyards ! * s'ecria-t-il en se tournant 
vers sa suite, et un general s’en detacher aussitot pour aller les chercher. Deux 
lieures s’ecoulerent, Napoleon dejeuna et retourna, au meme endroit pour y 
attendre la disputation. Son disoours etait ])ret, plein de dignite et de majeste, 
d’apres lui du moins ! Entraine par la generosite dont il voulait accabler la 
capitalo son imagination lui represeiitait deju une reunion dans le palais des ^ 
Tsars, ou les grands seigneurs Russes se rencontrerai avec les se.gneurs de sa 
cour. Il nommait un pr^fet qui lui gagnerait le coeur des populations, il 
des tribuait des largesses aux etablissement de bienfaisance, pensant que si en 
Afrique il avait cru devoir se draper d’un bournous et aller se recueillir dans 
une mosquee, ici a Moscow il devait semontrer genereuxa Texemple des Tsars. 
Pendant qu‘il revait ainsi s'impatientant de ne pas voir venir les boyards, ses 

s 2 



gen^raux inquiets dcliberaient entre eux a voix basse^ car lea envoycs partis 
a la recherche des deputes etaient revenus annonceri d’uu air consternc que 
la ville etait vide.’’ 

La ville etait vide ! ” Those four words sum m not only Tolstoi^s 
picture of the path of a conqueror, but his view of life. *They set 
forth his judgment on all cruelty, all lust, all worldly endeavour. 
Whatever these are beside, they are, in the literal and most emphatic 
sense of the word, vanity. They break through the enclosure of law 
to find a vacuum. 

That deep-felt moral is only one of the reasons which suggest a 
comparison between Peace and War^^ and an English novel taking 
the same subject, and treating it with something of the same feeling 
— ^Thackeray’s “ Vanity Fair.^^ In both we sec in the background the 
dust and smoke of the great army, the thunder of cannon reaches our 
ears, the figures of the dramatis vanish into that cloud, and 

some reappear no more. The moral atmosphere of the two writers, 
moreover, is somewhat similar. Which of us has his desire, or 
having it is satisfied ? ” the last sentence in Vanity Fair," expresses 
something not unlike the feeling in the w'ords we have quoted. But 
what does the reader remember of the elder novel ? A great love, 
faithful through absence, through coldness, through disappointmcin, 
struggling on, through long years, to the satisfaction in which, after 
all, there lies hid a still greater disappointment. What does he 
remember of Peace and War ? A crowd of figures, a tangle of 
emotions, a hurried complex of incidents. ' Tolstoi gives a slice of 
experience. He selects nothing but a certain area of vision, and 
leaves its contents recorded in the proportion of their actual dimen- 
sions. There is no concentration, no rapid sweep of the brush, no 
broad shadow, everywhere only a transcript of the bewildering variety^ 
of actual light and shade. 

Is it permissible, in view of the new fatalism of democracy, for 
the critic to condemn a method he acknowledges to be characteristic 
of his day ? When he translates his own distaste for literary photo- 
graphy into a formula of art, i.s he as ridiculous as Dr, Johnson 
criticising Shakespeare, Bentley emending Milton, or Voltaire 
improving upon Sophocles ? We find it very difficult to rise to 
the elevation of impartial modesty required for that concession, and 
cannot express with any doubt our anticipation that the reader will 
agree with us in finding* many pages of Peace and War” insuffer- 
ably tedious. They are at least interesting only to that taste for the 
» representation of elaborate detail which finds satisfaction in mere 
accurate description of things not in themselves interesting, sueh a 
satisfaction as that which elderly people remember in their first sight 
of the daguerreotype. But it must be conceded that this is exactly 
the state of mind to which the author addresses himself, and that he 



aims at a traiis6ript of life which would be imperfect if it were never 
desultory and seemingly purposeless. Experience^ for the most part, 
is undramatic. We often seem to be looking back on a series of 
beginnings; an acquaintance full of promise ends without ripening 
into friendship, or friendship fades into cold acquaintance without 
tragedy or pathos, abandoned pursuits leave our path cumbered with 
rubbish — everywhere we gee the scaflFolding side by side with the 
ruin. Tolstoi^s irrelevant detail, his painful reproduction of what is 
fragmentary and disproportionate, belongs to that search after truth 
which is the deepest thing in him, and adds its influence to make his 
page reflect as it does the mood of our own time : its hurry, its candour, 
its want of reticence, and then again its bewilderment, its questioning 
of all that its forerunners assumed, and its new assertion of whatever 
is saved from the wreck with the emphasis of individual conviction and 
fresh experience. 

But the characteristics which fit him to express the life of the 
present seem to us somewhat to disqualify him to describe the life of 
the past. His work is everywhere redolent of the problems of the 
hour in which he writes, and his picture of “ sixty years since ” lacks 
the mellowness of history. Thackeray^s picture is not only charac- 
terized by a method more suitable, we think, to historic treatment, 
but it much more nearly belongs to the period which it under- 
takes to describe. It recalls a set of feelings which are unknown to 
our generation, AVlien the men of oai time assert what he assumed, 
it is as a matter of individual conviction formed in face of denial ; his 
quiet reference to a background of assumptions hallowed by the 
adherence of a nation is now impossible. He belongs, in a peculiar, 
but very real sense, to the world of Christian tradition. He was a 
Christian as he was an Englishman. He accepted his country's 
creed in the same spirit as he accepted its laws. That this ceased to 
be possible about the same time that photography became common, 'y 
is. of course, a mere chance. But it is not a chance that at the time 
of this change literature altered its tone and lost its reserve. As 
long as a country accepts some corporate expression of faith in the 
unseen, the ultimate problems of life do not invade the world of 
literature. We do not mean that there ever was a time when these 
problems were not discussed. But there was a time when they had 
to be discussed in face of certain definite answers which formed 
objects of attack to all opponents, and which might then be said 
to give a framework to all thought. It was not only that anti- 
theological writing was diflerent as long as theology was national, the • 
influence of these theological assumptions extended beyond the 
utmost verge of their logical scope, they gave a training in reticence 
which influenced not only all expression but all thought. Men see 



what they look for, and when the ultimate questions of life oi^e 
problems awaiting solution, the whole of life is pervaded by that spirit 
^ research which finds eTerywhere the petty and the trivial side by 
side with the colossal and the momentous, and leaves no large impres* 
eion undisturbed by parenthesis and exception. 

Yet here we must not be supposed to condemn when we merely 
define. Perhaps when the subject is War, we do better to contemplate 
the work of the photographer rather than t^e painter. Open " Vanity 
Pair," and read the summons to the field of Waterloo ,• note how the 
heartless disloyal coxcomb at that trumpet call suddenly becomes a man, 
and realizing for the few hours allotted to him of his worthless life — 
so the brief mention with which he is dismissed allows us to suppose 
— ^the description of Wordsworth's Happy Warrior, turns his necessity 
to glorious gain." Or turn back from a great dramatic artist to the 
great dramatic artist, read in Henry V." the night before Agincourt. 
Shakespeare intensifies the lesson of Thackeray. He shows us War as a 
source of the glow that comes over a man when he feels himself to be the 
member of a nation. We few, wc happy few, we band of brothers ! " 
That is how war looks to the artist. But it is not thus that it should 
be regarded by the statesman. Let him who has pow'er to involve 
bis country in war learn from the photographer what it is to be 

“ Forced to go in company with I^ain, 

And Fear and Jkiiserablc train ! ” 

Let him, ^ith look upon war a scene of horror and tor- 
ture, of sud^^ then again of bewildering 

confusion^ of futile design, of wasted effor^and planless sequence of 
event. . Tolstoi, embodying, perchance, the ^^tual recollections of his 
Who served in the campaign he describes, and his own memories 
^ rlie Crimean war, drags us to the surgeon’s teP^ and turns his camera 
on the operating table, forces us to hear the shrieks of brave men, to 
sec blood, torn and quivering flesh, to assist at the last convulsions of 
the dying. We feel the very opposite from all that noble emotion 
with which Shakespeare thrills u&; we are made to sympathize with 
selfish cowardice, with an engrossing care for one's own skin. It is 
not that this is the true picture and the other the false one. Although 
Tolstoi is, and Shakespeare was not, a soldier, it is just as true that 
war makes a man feel himself to be the member of a nation as that 
it makes him feel pain. * But the truth of the artist, though it is also 
the truth of the historian, may be left to take care of itself; what 
•he should remember who has to make history is the truth of the 

And we have reached a stage in the world’s development in which 
this kind of truth has taken a new irai)ortance. Each of the great 
national epochs which we have typified respectively by the art of the 



Qculptor^ the painter, and the photographer, corresponds to a certain 
phase of national evolution* Greek art expresses, though it does not 
record, the life of the City. For mere individual w^th and taste 
the sculptdir has little to supply. Sculpture demands a, public posi- 
tion, a group of spectators united by common traditions, pommon 
faith, and, above all, the State as its patron. It undertakes to tell no 
etory to a curious and ignorant spectator ; its effect is conditional on 
a background of common tradition and a strong framework of cor- 
porate life, while it yet supplies in its majestic permanence a compen- 
sating influence to all the dangers of that life. The sculptures of the 
Parthenon remain as an eternal monument to the simplicity, the 
distinctness, the completeness of the glory of the city. The pictorial 
art of mediaeval Europe speaks less distinctly of the life of the nation, 
because everv thing about it is less distinct, but only for that reason. 
Its richer variety corresponds to a more complex organism ; its fuller 
harmonies express its larger relations ; its wealth of portraiture cor- 
responds to the development of private life ; while its greatest works 
commemorate that age inaugurated by Dante’s sigh for a united 
Italy, closed by Shakespeare’s triumph in a victorious England. And 
what group may we associate with the art that aims, above all things, 
at verisimilitude ? It is as much less simple than pictorial art as 
pictorial art is than sculpture, and our answer is proportionally hesi- 
tating and confused. The photograph aptly renders the desultoriness 
of life in an epoch of disintegration ; a political era in which, although 
the nation is still the starting-point of political action, a hundred 
signs bear witness that it is no longer that broad, simple unity which 
is the needed background for popular art. That vague movement 
which, under the titie of Socialism, unites much of what is best and 
worst in our day, also bears witness that the nation holds its position 
by no uncou tested sway ; we hear much of nationalities,^' we no 
longer regard a nation as the ultimate unity of our thought. We have 
modified the word, and the nuance of change, slight as it is, expresses 
a whole chapter of development. 

Of this new phase of life, as, of the corresponding new phase 
of art. Count Tolstoi is naturally fitted to be a typical exponent. 
One of the “ Tartar! Gallizati/' as Alfieri called the Russians, is 
qualified both by what he has, and what he lacks, to express the 
extra-national life but now struggling into existence, and soon 
pdrhaps to be called by some name as yet unknown to us. All 
that a Russian noble can know of national inheritance must be the 
possession of one who, like Tolstoi, is the descendant of a friend oE» 
Peter the Great ; but he seems to the English reader almost as much 
a Frenchman as a Russian. He is at home in Paris, he is at home 
in the wilds of his native land ; but no Russian city seems his home. 
He seems the member of a nation “ bo^n out of due time," borrowing 



its civilization from the past^ hurried into a prematwe participation 
in the comity of nations, and craving a fresh start, a new principle 
of association, and a new respect for individuality. He is thus, in 
aome ways, specially fitted to express the questioning of a time when 
the cleavage of sympathy has taken new lines, and classes are as much 
more important than they were as nations are less. The writer who 
painted pictures of the polished, frivolous^ profligate society of high- 
bred Russia, bearing the stamp of intimate experience in every line, 
has, it is said, copied the Great Renunciation of Sakya Muni, deserted 
his class, and, abdicating the privileges of wealth and rank, lives with 
and for the poor. This noble sacrifice of Tolstoi^s — noble it surely 
is, whatever be thought of its wisdom — is but the climax of ten- 
dencies everywhere active among us. The care for the poor has 
become a religion with all that borderland of conventional respect 
that belonged formerly to Christianity ; those catch its dialect and its 
gestures who have no real sympathy with its spirit. And the 
country whose monarch gave freedom to three million serfs, and 
afterwards fell a victim to the plots of those who would destroy 
all civil order, is one where this extra-national tendency — this 
new grouping of human beings, this craving for undiscovered 
centres — must be at its height. Nihilism speaks not merely of 
human wickedness ; it is the utterance of something that assuredly 
is a religion to those ready to lay down their lives in its cause — a 
religion as ready for pers^n tjgg^ j b jj3 0i_^oman Catholic Church, and 
also just as ready f^f'Sartyrdom. 

When a ne^j^^jgjon arises, national life must gl'ow dijn. Or i£ 
weinvert,^*„etjjpljor, it is only in the twilight of national life that 
new religion can shine upon the world. *When Christianity 
appeared, national life (except in J udsea) did not exist, and much that 
is supposed characteristic of Christianity, both by its enemies and by 
those who, like Tolstoi, seek to re-discover its original meaning, seems 
to ns the result of its birth into the world at a time of political slumber. 
What we find most interesting in his mind is his profound sense of 
individuality, the deep personal feeling that breaks through all the 
external portraiture of a con(jucror j that through the din of war makes 
us feel the strange solitude of a human spirit, its own impregnable 
environment of hope and fear, its mighty influence, its vast responsi- 
bility, and then again its strange helplessness, and the paradox of 
character and fate. He is never tired of returning to the irony 
of history, the confusion which everywhere meets the eye when 
> it b ppItm to group and explain the persons and movements before it. 
His countrymen, he sees, are befooled by the pictureaque, even in 
the inv^er that brought upon them the horrors of 1812, while 
the brave and unselfish Russian who resisted Napoleon is a colour- 
less in the eyes of Russians. Let him photograph both I 



"We would gladly have found room for a striking scene in the last 
volume of Peace and War," to which we can but refer the reader, 
describing the reception by Napoleon of the portrait of his infant son, 
sent him from Marie Louise at Paris on the eve of Borodino ; that 
son who, dying in early youth, left for his epitaph the condensed 
autobiography ‘‘ Ci-git le fils de Napoleon, ne Roi de Borne, mort 
Colonel Aiitrichien." Thjit strange pathetic epigram — though Tolstoi 
does not quote it — with its far-reaching satiric glance on the futility 
of human endeavour and the irony latent in all human achievement, 
seems to gather up the lesson that he would teach in every page. 
This, he seems to say, is the meaning of human fame ; it bequeaths 
that sense of futility, of vain effort, of dwindling possession, of the 
arms extended to grasp what in possession is lost in the closed hand, 
which we feel in contemplating the sons of great conquerors — the 
forgotten heirs of Alexander and Napoleon ; t3''pes of some history 
hidden in the soul of every man, of some comparison of human aspi- 
ration and achievement, well recorded by the bitter jest left for a 
forgotten tomb. 

Most persons have felt probably, in some form or other, the 
strange relief growing out of an intensified bewilderment. A question 
which has haunted us oppressively from time to time as it crossed our 
thoughts with cobweb persistence, becomes a solid barrier, to be over- 
leapt or broken down, and we discover that it is all we need. If we 
have understood the strange and deeply interesting book ^ in which 
Count Tolstoi sets forth his religious experience, the problems of life 
were intolerable to him till they became overwhelming, as he saw 
them to be insoluble, and supplied their own answer. He pondered 
over this strange scene of confusion, of pettiness, of indistinct 
disaster, seeking for a plan ; he sought in vain, and the vain search 
answered itself. Just as the critic blames his desultoriness and 
heterogeneity till he sees that it is the very object of his art, so he 
rebelled with bitter protest against the meaninglessness of life, until 

• * The truth of this description will be felt by those, and by those only, to whom the 

editor offers it — those w’ho are “ more in search of truth than of style.’* The rich and 
pregnant character of our material forbids such a transcrirtt of the biographic sketch in 
this volume as we would gladly have attempted. We must content ourselves with 
extracting these few dates and facts, helpful to the student of Tolstoi’s w'ork, and with 
asking the modest editor, whose part wc would gladly have seen made more ambitious, 
what is the meaning of a statement on p. vi., by which Tolstoi is made a contributor to 
this Review fourteen years before it existed. 

Nicolas Tolstoi, an officer in the Russian army . . 1S12 

Leo Tolstoi bom 1 829 

„ ,, discards all relimon 1845 

„ ,, a volunteer in the Caucasus . . . 1851 

„ ,, begins to write 1852 

„ „ commands a battery at Sebastopol . . 1855 

,, ,, a country magistrate .... ISdl 

, ,, marries 1S(>2 

, ,, is converted 1879 

, „ writes “ What I believe ”, . . 1884 



be traced here also tbe intention of the Supreme Artist. With that 
discernment all becomes clear. This edifice pf civil society, erected 
by the toil and energy of countless generations, is in very truth a 
crumbling ruin; let the Christian cease to wonder at its flaws, 
ponder no more over a crack here, a yawning fissure there, but 
once for all turn his eyes to his true home, and leave the hut 
of the campaigner to tumble into ignoble ruin. We are not 
translating Count Tolstoi^s belief into any rhetorical distortion. If 

Resist not evil^^ mean, as he interprets the words, Let every wrong- 
doer go his way,^^ there is no such thing as a Christian State. The 
world would be thus divided between a band of martyrs, suffering at the 
bands, not only of the civil authorities, but of any ruffians who chose 
to pillage and illtreat unresisting victims, and, on the other hand, a 
set of average men and women, including many of the best and worst 
specimens of both, who openly repudiated all adherence to Christianity. 
But those who found themselves members of the Church of Christ, 
Tolstoi thinks, would trouble themsehus very little about aught 
beside ; and he speaks with authority, for he believes himself to have 
found truth, and to discern its antagonism to all that this world 
has to give, which certainly it has given him. 

And yet no one has ever painted more vividly than he the 
struggle of those instincts in man which recognize the State — those 
relations which shape the life of the secular world — with another set 
of instincts and relations which make up what w e may call the church, 
snd centre in man^s relation to (rod. Tolstoi does not shrink from 
testing the problem in its most difficult aspect ; he forces his reader, 
in ‘^Anna Karenina (a novel which, for tlie reason w^e have given, 
we incline to think a better work of art than Peace and War ’^), 
to ask the questions : Is there any unity but that of the soul and 
God ? Is the family to be considered as a w hole any more than the 
nation ? Is there to be any sanction on its oneness ? any punish- 
ment for the faithless wife and the adulterer ? If we have rightly 
connected the tendencies apparent in the novel with the religious 
belief set forth in the later work, Tolstoi intends us to reply in 
the negative.* The injured man would not even refuse permission 
to the guilty mother to feast her eyes on the child she has 
deserted (so we understand the implied lesson), if he were ready to 
exercise the forgiveness due from a Christian. Tolstoi depicts with 
wonderful power the effort of an injured husband to follow what he 
conceives the law of Christ ; he fearlessly confronts that law with all 
the most potent influences which rise up against its fulfilment ; he 
' does not shrink from hinting that the strongest of those influences is 

* The translator of “ Christ’s Christianity ” tells us that Tolstoi’s views underwent a 
radical change after writing this novel. 1 1 ap})cars to the present writer that thongb the 
flitnation descrii^ed above is given ai;>. a mere x>rohlem, the answer was already latent in 
Tolstoi’s mind. 



the consciousness that the command is^ in a certain sense^ easy to the 
ooward. The husbancT who dares not kill the adulterer, is forced, as 
he strives to forgive him, to recognize the strange complex diflSculty 
of a base ally on the Christian side. The picture of the relation 
between the two men is very revolting to an English reader. Count 
Tolstoi, perhaps, would say that, for this very reason, the case is fitted 
to test the Christianas obedience to the command of a Lord who can 
less consent to share a divided allegiance than the husband a divided 
fidelity. True ; but let us face also the fact — for here lies the very 
kernel of the problem — that, if we understand the duty of non-resist- 
ance to evil in this sense, we give up the unity of the family. Man and 
woman cannot be one flesh, if either may experiment at will in foreign 
relation, and then return to the oneness they have temporarily aban- 
doned. If it can never be forfeited, neither can it ever be gained. 
And let no one suppose that he can avoid the problem by ignoring 
Christianity. Ours is, in the deepest and widest sense of the word, 
the age of unreserve ; all that our forefathers held sacred is brought 
forward to be flung into the crucible of research, and the relation of 
the sexes is no exception. The art which depicts the whole of life 
corresponds to a theory which sanctions the whole of impulse. The 
disintegrating tendencies of our age come from opposite quarters ; and 
the question suggested to the reader of Tolstoi by the spectacle of an 
injured husband who strives to obey Christ, will be echoed by the 
study of many a writer to whom all but the name of Christ is almost 

Perhaps one of the strongest points of interest in Tolstoi^s account 
of his religious experience, for an English reader, is its illustration of 
the influence exercised by the fact that the writer belongs to a non- 
historic race. He has not inherited, from scores of his ancestors, 
the conviction, gradually strengthening through all, and reaching the 
last with the accumulated force of the whole descent, that nothing 
can be good which impairs the unity of the nation. He is quite 
ready to listen to evidence in this direction, but he requires evidence. 
An Englishman can hardly begin fo inquire whether national life be 
a desirable result of social evolution. History is too strong for him. 
We by no means make the comparison in the interest of our own 
nation. A Russian is, we concede, or rather we earnestly urge, better 
prepared than an Englishman to consider the scope of those com- 
mands of Christ which seem to ignore, almost to deny, the supremacy 
of the State. He does not start from the assumption that they 
must be explained away. He sees on every side men who are ready . 
to lay down their lives if they nmy destroy every symbol of national 
unity ; it can be no difficulty to hi^ to conceive that for far other 
motives than theirs an unseen Lord sho'i^ demand a like surrender. 
Many a Nihilist surely must feel it haic^r to take life than to lay it 



down. Can it be hard to do that for Christy which so many are 
ready to do for a hope they are utterly unable to justify on any 
rational ground ? The problem is more urgent for a Russian^ but 
the time presses it upon us all. We, standing in the full noon of 
our modern European civilization, must sometimes be tempted to ask, 
surely — What is it all worth ? For an Englishman with a University 
education, it may be an actual element in ^satisfied consciousness 

“ That Chatham’s iangnage is his mother tongue, 

And Wolfe’s great name compitriot with his own.” 

But what of those who form, after all, the bulk of the people ? 
What of some inhabitant of the East-end who has never known a 
moment’s solitude except in the streets, or an hour’s physical comfort 
except in the ginshop ? Is it a tangible advantage to such as these 
to feel themselves the members of a nation ? And if not to them, 
must we not confess that our civil order has failed, and may as well 
make way for something different ? 

These pages are written by one who believes quite as firmly as Count 
Tolstoi does that if any one, with his eyes opened to the meaning of 
eternal realities, had to choose between the inestimable advantage of 
being the member of a nation on the one hand, and on the other of 
obeying the commands of Christ, he would not hesitate for a moment to 
fling aside all that vast inheritance of political life to sacrifice which for 
any other reason were a grievous crime. The further concession to the 
view of Count Tolstoi — that the words of Christ do, at first sight, 
appear hostile to the life of the State — may be made without any 
personal limitation. The very words so often cited as a concession 
to civil claim form the strongest evidence on the side of one who 
would exhibit this hostility. Render unto Csesar the things that 
are Caesar’s ’’ was a clear renunciation, on the part of the Jew, of that 
protest against the claim of the Caesar which the national instinct 
demanded ; and the Pharisee who had asked that question must have 
felt in hearing the answer that the dangerous prophet was discredited 
in the eyes of the Jew who would throw off the yoke of Rome. The 
Sermon on the Mount is read by Count Tolstoi as a protest against 
civil life, and he is nearer the truth in so reading it, we firmly 
believe, than are those who take it for the utterance of a string of 
truisms. The commands of Christ mean not less but more than the 
commands of other men. Perhaps it will be discovered, by one who 
sets himself to obey theilh, that these commands, far from being mere 
suggestions for a saintly perfection which the average man may admire 
’ at a distance, or mere rhetorical ^aggerations of elastic rules of 
kindliness and moderation, are jqart as absolute, and, in the mere 
natural order of things, just as ijtbpossible as they seem. 

The prudent critic, perhap^ would take leave of Count Tolstoi with 
two remarks, not likely to bej controverted by any reader. One is 



that any one does Christians an inestimable service, who forces 
them to ask what the commands of Christ really mean ; the other is 
that the same cause which hurts Tolstoi’s power as an artist, interferes 
with his power of interpreting the message of his Lord. An imprudent 
critic ventures on an expansion of this last criticism so as to include 
suggestions for a fuller answer. In poring over the command, " Resist 
not him that is evil/^ Tolstoi seems to us to lose sight of the promise, 
I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.^^ He takes 
the Sermon on the Mount as the legacy of one whose voice can reach 
us no more ; we would read it as the first word of a leader ready to 
command his army as long as it exists. The first word of a leader 
gives the key-note of his generalship. If any one be not ready for 
that sacrifice which the Sermon on the Mount demands, let him not 
call himself a Christian. There is a part of the nature to which it 
is always addressed. So far as man is alone with God, so far he 
must, if he would follow Christ, turn the cheek to the smiter, give 
the coat to him who has taken the cloak, and ‘go the last weary 
mile, when he has gone far before. If any one thinks the command, 
thus understood, to be easy, he has never tried to obey it. Each 
one of us constantly refuses to acknowledge the moral domain 
where he is alone with God ; he will not consent to that arduous 
isolation. Else all unkindness, all grudge, all that spoils the sweet- 
ness of life, would vanish utterly. Who would clutch at this piece of 
w orldly gain ? w ho would refuse that measure of toil ? who would 
resent this injury, if he felt that it were for him alone to gain or to 
endure? Pain is always pain, and we perhaps speak of it too 
lightly ; but it is not the refusal to endure what poor human nature 
can hardly contemplate that comes between man and man in the 
ordinary commerce of life, it is the intrusion of the self into that 
region of claim which belongs only to the group ; it is the I in 
each one of us which takes the place of the we.^^ But we are not 
therefore at liberty to invert this process and abdicate our post in the 
region of claim. Each one is a member of a larger unity, and has 
to resist whatever impairs the organic unity of the group, be it the 
family or the nation, which he has the power to guard. The hus- 
band is not a mere atom, to be injured only in his own person. He 
is the guardian of the family. He may not endure any injury to 
that which he is bound to guard ; to him the command of Christ is 
that, never noticed by Tolstoi, If he repent forgive him.” How can 
he, it may be asked, guard the unity of that which the faithless 
wife has already broken ? He can keep unhurt the protest of a with- 
held forgiveness which must only be granted to repentance. In 
England, it may be thought, there is little danger that he should 
ever do otherwise. Those who think thus are destined, we believe, 
to be rudely undeceived before many years are past, but the danger. 



as it is illustrated by the creed of Tolstoi, is ,not so much that men 
should cease to follow those instincts by which family and civil life 
are guarded, as that they should identify Christianity with the spirit 
which opposes those instincts, and insists on a mere individualism 
annihila'ting claim. If all Christians manifested steadfast purity 
and love in their own lives, even if they refused to enforce it on their 
own children, they would, perhaps, be better men and women than 
they are now ; but the bulk of mankind, forced to choose between 
Christianity and a principle of civil and family life, will not choose 
Christianity? Count Tolstoi's creed will leave on the mind of the 
ordinary man an impression that Christianity is a religion partly for 
saints and partly for fools. That Christian teacher has surely erred 
who hides from the ordinary man that Christianity is the religion 
for him, although the error, when it is accompanied by such a model 
of aspiration as we have in Christ's Christianity," may be called a 
sublime one. It is the prompting of Gods spirit, as it speaks 
through all the noblest instincts of our time, which has taught Count 
Tolstoi that ** the true life is the common life of all ; " * but the 
common life " will, on the lips of less earnest men, become an unreal 
phrase, unless it is accepted in that gradation of outward grouping 
which is God's work and not man's ; unless the sacredness of the 
Family and the Nation be upheld by a sternness of purity that can 
inflict as well as endure suffering, and enforce as well as renounce 

JcLiA Wedovoop. 

* ** Christ s Christianity,’* p. 344. Kegan I’aul, Trench & Co. 


T he widespread belief that Irish poverty and turbulenee originate 
in the baneful influences of creed and race is very generally 
held as an unquestionable truth in North-east Ulster, where I lived. 
It is also there an accepted fact that of these two evils Popery is 
the worst. A faith that was described last year by a member for 
Belfast as a system of sensualism, superstition, and sin ” is natur- 
ally the parent of crime and misery. It is not in the nature of 
things that a Papist ” can prosper ; for industry, so essential to 
success in life, is fatally undermined through habits of idleness 
fostered by the observance of Church holidays. Besides, the want 
of intelligence evidenced by a pertinacious rejection of Gospel truths- 
makes it quite reasonable to infer that the farmer who believes in 
the doctrine of absolution, transubstantiation, and the ifkediatiou of 
saints is not likely to hold sound views in regard to the rotation of 
crops or the management of stock. 

Disabilities incident to an erroneous creed are aggravated by dis- 
abilities incident to race. Inherited savage instincts derived from a 
long line of lawless ancestors require to be repressed by force. It is 
impracticable to win the Celtic Papist to appreciate the blessings of 
civilized life. He enjoys his mud hovel ; he luxuriates in dirt. 
Kindly efforts made to raise him out of the degrading conditions in 
which he lives are repaid by hate and ingratitude. A bom con- 
spirator, his obedience to the laws must be enforced by fear. 

Such is an epitome of the gloomy political creed of Orange Ulster ; 
and possibly, if I had not inherited a very different belief from ono 
who, year after year, vainly tried to arouse the attention of the- 
Legislature to the crime-provoking injustice of the laws to which the 
tenant-farmer was subject, 1 might not have so stoutly maintained 

264 . 


that arguments based on the influence of creed or race were abso- 
lutely destitute of Talue. And when^ from personal knowledge^ I 
could affirm that indefatigable industry combined with agricultural 
skill characterized the Roman Catholic cultivators of the soil in 
France^ Italy^ and more especially in Belgium^ I was clearly justified 
in my assertion that the poverty of the Irish peasant was not the 
outcome of his creed. 

The arguments based on race were evidently of an equally fallacious 
character^ for history proved that the modern Irishman is of no 
race ; so blended now is the blood of Celt and Dane, Saxon, Norman^ 
Scot, and Frenchman/^* The cruelties perpetrated on man and 
beast by the Roman Catholic Whiteboys of the South did not exceed 
in brutality the outrages committed in the last century by the Ulster 
Protestant Peep of Day Boys, Oak Boys, and Hearts of SteeL And 
since the secret societies in the North had originated in wholesale 
evictions on the great Donegal and Upton estates, it was reasonable 
to infer that similar wholesale evictions in the South had given rise 
to Whiteboys, Ribbonmen, and kindred lawless bauds. With a burn- 
ing hatred of English rule, as intense as that now felt by the Irish 
Roman Catholic emigrant to the States, thousands of evicted, Pro- 
testant farmers crossed the Atlantic, and to the valour of these exiled 
Ulstermen the Americans mainly owed the first successes they 
obtained in their war with England. Similar results, I urged, ever 
ensue from similar evils. Injustice still remains injustice, though it 
assumes the name of law, and enforced injustice is ever a prolific 
source of violence and crime. Respect for law can alone be felt for 
laws worthy of respect, and tenant-farmers could not possibly respect 
a law that gave landlords the right to seize on all the profits that 
might accrue from years of persevering industry, and to evict them 
penniless frdm homes built by their own hands, on farms created 
not iinfrequently from bog or rock-strewn waste through long-con- 
tinued patient labour. To make the Roman Catholic tenant-farmer 
a law'-respecting man. the law must cease to be to him a synonym 
for tyranny and wrong, and he might well offer up the American 
clergyman’s prayer : O God, grant that we may not despise our 
rulers, and grant that they may not act so that we cannot help it.'* 

I thought my arguments were sound, but I had nearly a monopoly 
of that opinion. I was told that the experience of many a kind 
and generous landlord disproved the correctness of my views. If 
plausible in theory, their fallacy was shown in practice. As I was 
not in a position to confute by personal cx[)crience the justice of 
such assertions, I at length resolved to test their value through a 
purchase in the Dublin Land Court. The announcement of my 
intention gave rise to comments that very unequivocally impeached 
* Froude, “ The KoglUh ia Ireland.*’ 


the wisdom of my purpose. The objectioDs urged certainly derived 
some weight from the fact that Tipperary, now a quiescent agrarian 
volcano, was then in full eruption. I was told that, if by a happy 
chance I did not lose my life, I should certainly lose -the money 
invested in the purchase. But these lugubrious prophecies did not 
deter me from my purpose, and I commeuced to study the advertise- 
ments of desirable lands for sale which daily appeared in the Irish 

But as many of these desirable lands " proved most undesirable 
on inspection, and as my devotion to an idea was not so absolute as 
to render me indifferent to the circumstances in which my land- 
owning experiences were to be carried out, an increase of geographical 
knowledge was the only benefit that for a considerable time I derived 
from the various journeys I made in quest of my intended purchase. 
Outside the fire-grate, peat has decidedly a depressing influence on the 
mind, and the large extent of treeless wastes of bog and mountain I 
visited in the South and West made me feel very forcibly that Erin is 
only lovely when she bathes her face in river, lake, or sea. The 
desirable lands I visited in Mayo were more especially only desir- 
able by those who were endowed with a Mark Taplcy frame of mind. 
Journeys here and there, from Donegal to Kerry, made me feel at 
times as if 1 were in quest of the Holy Grail. But imbued with the 
spirit of our family motto, Patience conquers difficulties,” I perse- 
vered, and at length in the spriiijg of 1869 my experiences as a land- 
owner began. 

But, as I was not destitute of prudential considerations in carrying 
out ray purpose, I limited my purchase to a very small extent of land. 
Only some dozen tenants were subject to my sway, for I was their 
sovereign in the true meaning of the term. The power of the Queen 
within my liliputian kingdom was insignificant compared with mine. 
I could seize at pleasure on the value created by the tenants industry. 
The homes they had built ^yere not theirs, but mine ; and from the 
farms that some had carved with patient toil out of furze- and heather- 
covered, thin, poor, hill-side soil h could evict them penniless, or 
grind them down to pauperism, through the exaction of an extortionate 
rent. What I might do had been done by many of my co-purchasers 
under the Encumbered Estates Act of 1849, for King Stork proprietors 
had not unfrequently been installed by the Dublin Land Court in 
the place of the King Log proprietors who had allowed their unjust 
proprietorial rights to remain unused. On a visit to a property in 
Donegal for sale, a tenant-farmer on the land forcibly expressed the 
feelings of his class in reference to the extortionate demands of 
the new proprietors, to whom the term " land shark ” was often aptly 

" God help me,” he exclaimed ; I have toiled long years to make 




the place what it is now. No landlord has erer spent a penny upon 
the house and land, and if I am to be trated as the new landlord has 
trated his tenants close by, it will be well for me and mine to go 
under the sod at wanst.'^ 

It was evident that the Donegal farmer s views of right and wrong 
differed widely from those entertained by the Legislature^ since^ after 
it was emphatically proved by the Report of the Devon Commission 
of 1845 that buildings, fences and all that essentially constitutes a 
farm was the tenants work, the Encumbered Estates Act of 1819 
decreed that the value created by his labour should be knocked 
down in a court of law by public auction to the highest bidder. A 
Donegal peasant who possibly did not know how to read and write, 
and certainly had never studied any treatise on political economy, 
may be excused if he failed to see the justice of that Act, or if he 
looked on it as a legislative declaration of the fact that landlord and 
slave-owner in Ireland were convertible terras. 

My tenants showed by acts, if not in words, that, like the Donegal 
farmer, they equally failed to appreciate the sound economical 
doctrine of free contract in their relations to the proprietor of the 
soil. By offerings of chickens, eggs, and butter, they sought to 
propitiate the good-will of the possibly malignantly disposed arbiter 
of their fate. Nor even did they seem to take comfort from the 
fact that their offerings were civilly declined, for they afterwards 
urged their acceptance on my servant, with a view, doubtless, to 
secure her influence in their favour. Nor, indeed, could ray sex give 
any definite grounds of hope that I was exempt from land-shark 
propensities, for it was evident that a Protestant lady who could do 
such an unaccountable act as to purchase land in a Roman Catholic 
district of country, where she was utterly unknown, and amongst a 
people who familiarly spoke a language slie could not understand, was 
a being to whom no ordinary rules of reasoning would apply. From 
this point of view, it was quite logical to believe that I might develop 
land-sharking tendencies of the extremest kind. Under these cir- 
cumstances, the hill tenants migiit especially fear an increase of rent, 
as, since the time that it was fixed, their reclamations of waste land 
had added considerably to the value of their farms. As the salary of 
the agent of the (Jourt of Chancery to whom for some time they had 
paid their rents was not dependent, like that of an ordinary land 
agent, on the amount received, they owed most probably to their late 
landlord's bankruptcy immunity from tlie common fate of Irish 
tenants — to be heavily taxed on their imj)rovemcnts. I subsequently 
heard that the indulgent consideration of the receiver had been 
secured through judicious presents of sacks of potatoes. 

The awe I inspired on my arrival was not only marked by offerings 
of farm produce, but in some instances by a mode of address to which 



I was quite unfamiliar^ A tenant^s wife, to obtain some trifling 
favour^ has knelt before me and kissed my hand. 1 called myself a 
Sovereign, and the term assuredly was practically justified. And 
throughout the South and West of Ireland, where the landlord's power 
was not limited by the custom of tenant-right that prevailed in 
Ulster, every landlord was a virtual despot, on whose personal 
character it alone depended whether or not his tenant-farmers should 
the benefits resulting from his industry and toil. Through a 
death, a sale, a change of agent, a prosperous tenant might be legally 
fleeced and reduced to beggary — possibly impelled by desperation to 
avenge his wrongs by some criminal deed. Such was the abject 
position of the Irish tenant-farmer before the Land Act of 1870 
checked, if it did not eflPectually end, the oppression of which for 
centuries he had been the victim. 

My awe-inspiring attriVjutes were not, however, of long duration, 
for I soon conclusively proved my immunity from land-shark 
tendencies by a written guarantee that no increase of rent should 
deprive the tenant of tlie enjoyment of the value created by .his 
improvements, and that, in accordance with the Ulster custom, he 
should have the right to sell the goodwill of his farm. Also, my 
speedily announced intention to build two cottages, to replace the 
dilapidated and almost ruinous onc-roomed hovels in which two farm 
labourers lived, could not fail to exercise an entirely tranquillizing 
influence on the tenants^ minds. 

But though my hill tenants* houses were not dilapidated or ruinous, 
they were truly but sorry specimens of cottage architecture. The few 
rays of light that could enter thnmgh a tiny pane would have left 
the ‘kitchen steeped in gloom had it not been for the open door, 
which in summrr-tinie did double duty as door and window; and as 
the bedroom was generally lit by an immovable small square of glass, 
which effectually precluded all direct communication with the outside 
air, it could not, on sanitary principles, be commended. But, as the 
roofs were sound and the rubble walls uncracked, I resolved to see 
if under favourable circumstances the tenants would be impelled by a 
desire to make much-needed improvements in their homes. Judged, 
indeed, by the low standard of comfort that exists in the South and 
West, my tenants were not badly housed, for, owing to the neglect of 
landlords to provide their tenants with decent homes, that numerous 
class whose tenure was only from yefir to year naturally limited 
their architectural aims to the construction of a simple shelter. And 
from this state of things has arisen the lamentable and disgraceful 
fact that in no country of the civilized world is the rural population 
so miserably housed as in Ireland. 

But even from an Irish point of view the absence in some instances 
of any outhouse to serve as barn was a defect that could not be denied. 

T 2 



When I saw in autumn that ^rain was threshed in uncertain weather 
on the kitchen floor, I urged the advantage to be derived from making 
some special provision for carrying on that work. As the hearty 
assent given to my remarks was followed up by the adoption of my 
advice during the ensuing winter, I have little doubt that the dread, 
for years entertained, of a sale that might subject them to the rule 
of a grasping landlord had deterred the ^tenants from making any 
substantial building improvements on their farms. 

Nor were my hill tenants^ improvements during the winter mouths 
limited to the erection of outhouses that would serve for barns ; for, 
on my return the ensuing summer to Timoleague, I found that two of 
those tenants^ farms had been enlarged through the reclamation of 
some bits of the waste land that formed a ])ortiou of their holdings, 
and the piles of stones, that lay beside the ])lots in which the uprooted 
furze and heather had given place to tiny ridges of turnips or 
potatoes, proved most unequivocally the hard and patient toil through 
which the reclamation had been effected. 

The result of my expenditure on a portion of some acres of adjoin- 
ing waste land I owned is an evidence of the nn gracious nature of 
the soil reclaimed, for, whilst many of the trees I planted pined and 
died, those which survived are sickly, stunted specimens of their specie^. 

But I felt no grudge to my unprofitable bit of waste, as I owed 
it more than it owed me. In summer and autumn, when the 
abundant furze or heather was in full bloom. I loved to sit in my 
wild garden and look up from the bright-coloured flowers at my feet 
to mountains steeped in a soft blue haze, or lo tlie not far distant 
flashing sea. Nor were furze and hcatlier tlic only flowers niy wild 
garden grew, for in early summer it was studded licrc and there with 
orchises of varied hue, and in autumn large w hire water-lilies covered 
the surface of one of its deep ponds. Neither was the floral wealth 
of the land I owned limited to this spot, for, wliilst tlie w ild rose and 
honeysuckle garlanded many a hedge, ox-eyed daisies starred roadside 

Praiseworthy as was tlie indusVy of my liill tenants in connection 
with the scraps of land tliey had reclaimed, still higlier praise is due 
to old Jack rianagau for his most remarkable display of a quality 
which I have been so often told Irishmen rarely iiossess. Jack was 
eighty years of age, and occupied a small liill farm at the time I 
bought the land, on which he lived. Besides the disability for work 
incident to Lis ])atriarchal years, bis ability tf) labour was still more 
impaired by the chronic rlicurnutisrn tliat rendered liim unable even to 
stand without tlic assistance of tw'o sticks. But, despite his crippled 
state, Jack never failed until his death to take an active part in 
harvest work. It was truly a touching sight to see old Jack with 
book in band shaffling along on cloth-bandaged knees to help his 

experiences of an IRISH LANDOWNER. 269 

eon-in-law to cut down the grain. As Jack^s knowledge of English 
was limited to good morning/' I could only give him through an 
interpreter the praise he so well deserved. But whenever I am told 
that the Irish are an idle race, I think of old Jack Flanagan in the 
harvest-field shuffling along on his rheumatic knees. 

Ted Murphy, an adjoining hill-side tenant, was also a very 
industrious man. From t^e heaps of stones that were visible near 
his house, it was evident that great labour had been undergone by 
himself and sons in the conversion of barren heath into tillage land ; 
and Pat, who succeeded at his father s death to the occupation of 
the small farm, carried on the work of reclamation with such zeal 
that, on my return one summer to Timoleague, I heard with great 
regret that he had died from an illness brought on by overwork in 

rooting out'^ the stones. Like old Jack Flanagan, Pat Murphy’s 
knowledge of English was limited to a few words. 

But of all my tenants, Phil Tiernan was in every respect the best, 
and he solely owes the prosperity he now enjoys to years of hard and 
unremitting toil on an (originally) eight-acre farm adjoining my wild 
garden. At the time when, through his father-in-law's death, he 
entered on the occupation of the farm, his three boys were in their 
early childhood, and even Avhen they had arrived at an age to give 
some small help in agricultural work, Phil kept them at school, 
being resolved that they should have the advantages he had never 
enjoyed — for Phil did not know how’ to read and write, and had only 
a %xry imperfect knowledge of English. With his tidy, industrious, 
Irish-speaking wife I could not interchange a word. As time went 
on, and the boys became his zealous helpers in field-work, Phil’s 
prosperity visibly increased. Extending from year to year the 
boundaries of his tiny farm by continuous reclamation, Phil points 
wdth well-justified pride to great mounds of stones that strikingly 
attest the severity of the toil by which the reclamation has been 
effected. Phil’s ever ready rent was ahvays paid with a look of 
satisfaction, and, when I happened not to have any small change at 
hand to balance the account, he invariably said, in reference to my 
deficient pence, Sftie, it don’t matter." Only by chance one day, 
soon after Phil had paid his rent, I came to know that he had lost 
his cow, and, as he had not sufllcient money to replace his loss, I 
lent him a few' pounds, to be repaid in small instalments from year 
to year. Several times, when I had quite forgotten that an instal- 
ment of this debt was due, Phil, after he had paid his rent, reminded 
me that he had something more to pay, and would hand me a half- 
sovereign in part repayment of the loan. 

Nor were Phil’s improvements limited to his land, for, after he had 
built substantial offices for his horse and cow, he pulled down a 
considerable portion of the bulging walls of his own house, and, with 



the aid of a handy man/^ converted it into a snng comfortable 
cottage. Phil's last architectural achievement was the erection of a 
building for his fowls and pigs. Through the many hanks of wool 
spun by the old widow to whom Phil so kindly gave a home, and 
converted by a country weaver into flannel and frieze, fhil and 
his sons are always well and substantially clothed. Phil has Wought 
up his boys to be as industrious as Ivmself, and when onfc day I 
remarked that his clock was always an hour in advance of tie true 
time, the widow said : Sure, that just comes of Phils cunning. He 
wants to chate the boys into getting up betimes by making them 
think it later than it is. Sure, there never was a man that had such 
a heart for work as Phil, good honest man that he is.^^ 

But for all PhiPs goodness, honesty, and industry, if he had had 
the crushing rents to pay exacted from the lately evicted tenants of 
Bodyke, he could not have prospered, and no doubt he owed lis 
success in a large degree to the vicinity of the sca-shore, whcli 
furnished him with an abundant supply of seaweed after every gale. 
On a summer night when the tide was low, Phil has been seen 
utilizing the light of a full moon in carting the sea-weed home. 

But if I had an exceptionally good tenant in Phil Tiernan, I had 
an exceptionally unsatisfactory tenant in the occupier of a corainra- 
tively large farm of seventy acres. He, however, did not belong %(V-hc 
working class, for his father had been the owner of a small propetfy 
in land. As he had not sufficient capital to stock or properly woilv 
the farm,' his arrears of rent, that increased in amount from year 
vear, would have entailed on me considerable loss had not his brotlicr 
m England made good the deficiency, ^^ hcn at length my evci 
impecunious tenant had exhausted fraternal generosity by yearly 
appeals for aid, he complied with my request that he should sell the 
tenant-right of his farm. We parted on good terms, and in his 
place I obtained a solvent tenant, who, after the full payment of his 
predecessor's arrears, commenced to thorough-drain several acres of 
the wet low-lying portion of his farm. Prom that time forth the 
rent was ever readv at rav call. • 

Beside Phil Tiernan s reminders of the loan instalment due, several 
incidents occurred which clearly proved that honesty was a general 
characteristic of the inhabitants of Timolcaguc. Standing one day 
before the door of the village post-office when a tenant vho had been 
the manager of a flour-mill close by received a letter, which he read 
with evident satisfaction, he said, in reply to my congratulations on 
the good tidings it contained : I am j)Iea.sed indeed to find tliat 
old Martha llalloran is the honest woman I thought her. When 
she left for America two years ago, she promi.scd to send the money 
due for some bags of flour, and she has kept her word/^ 

Then the respect for the rights of property shown by the juvenile 



population of Timoleague is eminently deserving of remark. Where 
fruit or any special dainty is concerned, honesty cannot be considered 
an attribute of boys ; and when one of my tenants, a labourer's 
widow, rented an unwalled orchard at some distance from her house, 
1 doubted, but wrongly doubted, the correctness of the assurance I 
received : " An’ sure there isn’t a boy about that would be so mane as 
to stale the pdor widdy's apples." From the swarm of children that 
for several years used to rush in autumn to the widow’s cottage when 
they saw me enter, for the ha'porth " of apples that each would 
get, I saw how heroically they resisted an immense temptation. 

As it is a generally accepted truth that the Irish priesthood is 
hostile to the spread of education, I can state some facts that serve 
to show the error of this opinion. For the boys and girls of Timo- 
league are indebted to the energetic action of the parish priest for the 
National schools built through his agency by the contributions of 
his congregation in money and labour. And but for the excellent 
school of the Christian Brothers, in a neighbouring country town, the 
bulk of the Roman Catholic population would have remained un- 
taught ; for the free education given there to the children of the 
labouring class alone enables many a poor boy to learn how to read and 
write, and through this school also he can obtain a supply of interesting 
and instructive books to read at home after his school-days are ended. 
The Example set in this respect might well be followed in all the 
National schools in Ireland. To create a love for reading, and to make 
no provision for satisfying the desire created, is a grievous error. The 
stock of books I annually brought to Timoleague was warmly wel- 
comed, and I was sorry that I had so often to say, in answer to the 
request “ Plazc give me a book," that I had no more books to give. 
At the present time the reading of the inhabitants of Timoleague 
and neighbourhood is nearly limited to the contents of weekly papers, 
whose coloured cartoons often decorate their walls. 

But these cartoons are not the sole decoration of cottage walls at 
Timoleague, for they are invariably intermixed with oleographs of 
saints, the most prized of all the* pictorial embellishments at com- 
mand. And as a giit-framed Madonna or saint can be purchased in 
the market town for a penny, or even less, poverty is no bar to the 
satisfaction of the artistic taste — evidenced in one instance most 
strikingly by the interior of a one-roomed cot^ge, just outside my 
land, in which the decorator, a labourer's wife, has covered walls 
and rafters with intermingled scraps of bright-coloured wall-papers, 
trade and newspaper illustrations, oleographs of saints, with here a 
little cup or plate, and there a toy mirror. And none of my tenants 
has exhibited such a love of wall decoration as the labourer’s wife 
who left the crazy one-roomed hovel, where she passed her youth, to 
enter the substantial three-roomed house which subsequently to my 



purchase became her home. Oleographs of the Madonnas and saints 
of the old masters are ever a warmly welcomed gift, and I have seen 
them sometimes greeted with a kiss of reverent admiration. One 
may well wonder that such tastes could be developed in the Irish 
population under the poverty-stricken conditions of existence in which 
the masses live. 

But in respect to the art of agriculture, the inhabitants of Timo- 
league e^ddenced a woful absence of any due appreciation of the 
essential principles on which that art can be successfully carried on. 
I was grieved to see how their industry was handicapped^ by adherence 
to ancestral practices in reference to the culture of the soil 
practices, no doubt the outcome of the law which for centuries gave 
the landlord the right to appropriate value solely created by his 
tenants^ labour. The slovenly mode of culture that prevails at 
Timoleague prevails also through the whole South and West of 
Ireland in a most lamentable degree. Hank crops of weeds absorb 
the elements of fertility in the soil ; every ditch or fence is a nursery 
of noxious vegetation. Though my track from farm to farm could 
be traced by uprooted ragweeds and decapitated thistles, precept 
enforced by practice failed to make converts to my views. Waste of 
valuable farm-yard manure was a no less serious evil, and the same 
man who grudged no labour to secure and cart seaweed and sand 
from the somewhat distant strand allowed still more valuable 
elements of fertility to go to waste or poison the air outside his 
door. As that which has to be done can only be eflectually learned 
by doing it, there is an urgent need that practical elementary instruc* 
tion in agriculture should be made a part of the curriculum of 
country National schools. The time now passed by labourers’ a^d 
small farmers’ sous in acquiring a knowledge of the Greek and Latin 
roots of words might be more profitably emjdoyed in the acquire- 
ment of an intimate acquaintance with roots of a more substantial 
kind. Outside the efficient tuition given in the Munster and Glas- 
nevin Dairy and Agricultural schools, the system of agricultural 
instruction devised by the Commissioners of the Board of Education 
fifty years ago has been an absolute failure through defective organiza- 
tion and deficient power of control A large portion of Ireland 
must soon become an uninhabited waste unless the Irish farmer is 
taught that system of tillage which enables the Flemish fanner to 
wrest abundant crops from the most barren soil. 

Since skilled agriculturists declare that the value of produce raised 
^n Irish land could be more than doubled through an improved 
system of culture, the cry of want that every recurring ungenial 
season brings emphasizes the necessity of teaching the masses of the 
Irish peopk the essential principles of that industry by which they 
live. Compelled to bear the brunt of competition with the teeming 

experiences of •an IRISH LANDOWNER. 273 

produce of warm cli^aates and rich unexhausted soils^ the Irish 
farmer^s want of skill eminently aggravates the diflSculties of his 
position* The statement made by the President of the Queen^s 
College in Cork, that the system of farming pursued in Ireland is 
the most barbarous in Europe,*'^ embodies in forcible terms the woful 
record, in Professor Baldwin's work on Practical Farming, of the 
defects of Irish agriculture. The annual loss in every department of 
Irish agricultural industry from w'ant of skill is computed to amount 
to several millions. Extensive tracts in Ireland now in an unpro- 
ductive state could be made to yield heavy crops of roots, grain, and 
grass. Holland can teach a lesson it would be well our Government 
should heed, for the richest dairy lands in that country once were 
bogs, and a recent w’riter* states that ^Mair meadows, fertile gardens, 
waving corn-fields, and blooming potato-beds are seen where only 
a short time ago was a trackless waste. 

The doctrine of self-help is good, but its application must be ever 
limited by circumstances. With a dwindling population and an 
ever diminishing area of cultivation, the need is great to bring that 
knowledge which is truly power within the reach of the masses of 
the Irish population ; through local agricultural schools, to supple- 
ment the valuable elementary instruction that might readily be given 
on small plots of land attached to country National schools. Our 
Government should not lag behind the Governments of France and 
Germany in affording the means of sound instruction in an industry 
on whose successful prosecution the well-being of the whole community 
depends. Neglected valuable Reports evidence the most deplorable 
legislative apathy to what is, for Ireland more especially, a matter of 
vital importance. And if the bogs and wastes of Holland have been 
profitably converted into fertile land, why should not Irish bogs and 
wastes be also profitably reclaimed through the labour of the thousands 
who now aunually leave their native land simply because they have got' 
no work to do ? Ireland is not over- but under-peopled, if the un- 
developed resources of the country were duly turned to account. 

As the charge of intolerance is often brought against the clergy 
and the members of the Irish Roman Catholic Church, it may be well 
to state that, as far as my experience goes, the charge is unfounded, 
for during the eighteen years in which I have been brought into 
direct communication with a Roman Catholic population I have never 
heard the utterance of an unkindly word in reference to Protestants. 
Probably in any district where organized mission work was carried 
on such might not have been the case ; but, happily, Timolcaguc and 
neighbourhood were free from this disturbing agency, as well as 
from that caused by the pressure often brought to bear on Roman 
Catholic parents to send their children to essentially Protestant 

* Herbert Mills. 



schools. A tenant-farmer expressed to me one daj feelings shared 
very widely by the class to which he belonged in reference to the 
fear entertained by Protestants that they should be unfairly treated 
under the system of Home Rule. 

They might trust us, indeed they might/' he said, “ just as we trust them. 
Don’t we send them to Parliament to fight for ns there ? And aren’t we glad 
to get them, and make much of them, when tli#?y stand our friends? And 
why shouldn’t we continue to do the same as we have done in bygone times ? 
If we take a Protestant for our leader, signs on it we won’t do the Protestants 
any harm. And if a ’priest told me I wasn’t to vote for a Protestant, I wouldn’t 
heed his words. No, not a bit. It is my duty to mind what he says in matters 
of religion ; but as to politics, it is a matter in which I have got to think and 
to act for m3^self.” 

The friendly relations that during the late troubled times have sub- 
sisted uiiinterrujDtedly between myself and tenants is especially note- 
worthy from the fact that they were ardent Nationalists and warm 
supporters of the Land and National Leagues ; but, as far as per- 
sonal experience is concerned, I should not have known of the exist- 
ence of either of these associations. On niv return each vear to 
Timoleague, my rents were paid without the least reserve, and the 
tenant whose outside car I used, from time to time, seemed well 
pleased to give public evidence of the good understanding that 
existed between himself and landlord. The warm Irish greeting I 
so often heard, Ge naydian tholct agus gc me fa de walic * 
(God bless you, and long life to you), was uttered with a heartiness 
which showed that it was a genuine expression of friendliness and 
good-will. Told frequently of the exceptional good fortune I 
enjoyed, I deny the correctness of the term cmjdoyed, for 1 hold 
that my exceptional experience was not the result of a liappy chance, 
but the natural consequence of a generally neglected truth, that 
trust wins trust, and justice l)cgets confidence and love. And this truth 
liolds good in every sphere of action. The (lovcrnmcnt that is not 
based on this sure foundation cannot properly fulfil the functions for 
which it is designed. Failure and disaster arc the inevitable results 
of a breach of the organic laws* to which the moral as well the 
material world is subject, and wrongful legislation as surely breeds 
turbulence and crime as the polluted well or the neglected drain 
gives rise to epidemic disease. Even as the electric fluid is subject 
to conditions that render it under varying circumstances a deadly fge 
or a trusty friend, so that spirit which now leads to deeds of violence 
and crime might, under changed conditions, be transmuted into a 
vital energy that w^ould repress disorder, further industry, stimulate 
enterprise, and become an active agent in the promotion of the 
national weal. 

Mahel Sijarmak Ckawfobu. 

Written phonetically. 




W HEN the historian of the future writes the history of the nine- 
teenth century he will doubtless assign to the period embraced 
by the life of the generation terminating in 1885 a place of impor- 
taiice, considered in its relations to tlie interests of humanity, second 
to but very few, and perhaps to none, of the many similar epochs of 
time in any of tlic centuries that liave preceded it ; inasmuch as all 
economists who have specially studied this matter are substantially 
agreed that w’ithin the period named man in general has attained to 
such a greater control over the forces of Nature, and has so compassed 
their use, that he has been able to do far mere work in a given time, 
produce far more product measured by quantity in ratio to a given 
amount of laj^our,^^ aud reduce the effort necessary to insure a com 7 
for table subsistence in a far greater measure, than it was possible for 
him to accomplish twenty or thirty years anterior to the time of the 
present writing. In the absence .of sufficiently complete data, it is 
not easy, and perhaj^s not possible, to estimate accurately and state 
specifically the average saving in time and labour in the world's 
work of production aud distribution that has been thus achieved. In 
a few departments of industrial effort the saving in both of these 
factors has certainly amounted to seventy or eighty per cent. ; in not 
a few to more than fifty per cent,* !Mr. Edward Atkinson, who has 

* According to the United States Bureau of 1-abour (Keport f'U’ li'S*'*), ti.e gain in the 
|)Owcr of prodnotioii iu some uf the leading industries of the United States “ durirg tijo 
past fifteen or twenty years,” as measured by the '• disi»lacenient of the muscular labour 
ft>rmerly enijdoyed to effect a given result (i.c., amount of product), has bteu a^ follows : 
In the manufacture of agricultural implements, from oO to 70 per cent.; iu the manu- 
facture of shoes, SO per cent.; in the manufacture of carriages, (>.“> per cent.; lu the 
manufacture of machines and machinery, 40 per cent.; in the silk manufacture, .H) i>cr 
cent ; aud so on. 



made this matter a special study, considers oneirthird as the minimum 
ayerage that can be accepted for the period above specified.*^ Other 
authorities are inclined to assign a considerably higher average. The 
deductions of Mr. William Fowler, Fellow of University College, 
London, are to the effect that the saving of ]|^bour since 1850 in the 
production of any given article amounts to 40 per cent. ; f &i^d the 
British Royal Commission (Minority Report, 1886) characterizes the 
amount of labour required to accomplish a given amount of production 
and transport at the present time as incomparably less than was 
requisite forty years ago, and as “ being constantly reduced.^^ 

But be this as it may, out of such results as arc definitely known 
and accepted have come tremendous industrial and social disturbances, 
the extent and effect of which — and more especially of the disturb- 
ances which have culminated, as it were, in later years — it is not easy 
to appreciate without the presentation and consideration of certain 
typical and specific examples. To a selection of such examples, 
out of a large number that are available, attention is accordingly 

Let us go back, in the first instance, to the year 1860, when an 
event occurred which was probably productive of more immediate and 
serious economic — industrial, commercial, and financial — changes than 
any other event of this century, a period of extensive war excepted. 
That was the opening of the Suez Canal. Before that time, and since 
the discovery by Vasco da Gama, in 1198, of the route to India by 
the Cape of Good Hope, all the trade of the Western heraisjihere 
with the Indies and the East toiled slowly and uncertainly around the 
Cape, at an expenditure in time of from six to ciglit months for the 
round voyage. The contingencies attendant upon such lengthened 
voyages and service, as the possible interruption of commerce by war, 
or failure of crops in remote countries, which could not easily be 
anticipated, required that vast stores of Indian and ChJhcse products 

* In a print-cloth factoiy jn Xew Kogland, in v/hicL the conditir^ns of production were 
analyzed by Mr. Atkinson, the jiroduct jier hand was found )»y liim to have advanced 
from 26,531 yards, TC])reseuting 3,38*2 hours’ work, in 1871, ‘.'.2,301 yards, representing 

2,695 hours’ work, in lhS4 — an incroasc of 22 per cent, in product, and a decrease of 20 
per cent, in hours of labour, (.'onverted into cloth of tlieir own product, the wages of the 
operatives in this same mill would have yielded them 6,205 y.anls in 1871, as compared 
with 9,737 yards in lsx4 — an increase of 56 92 y>er cent. During the same yioriod the 
prices of beef, ]Kjrk, flour, oats, butter, lard, cheese, and wool m the United states 
declined more than 25 per cent. 

A like investigation by the same authority of an iron furnace in Pennsylvania showed 
that, comparing the results of the five years from I860 to 186-1 with tlie five years from 
ld75 to 1879, the ]»ro(Iuet ]>er hand advanced from 776 tons to 1219 tons; that the 
gross value of the product remained about the same ; that tlio nuinl>cr of hands was 
reduced from 76 to 71 ; and that consumers gained a benefit of reiluction in price from 
$27*95 per ton to ®19 U8. 

f Wages have greatly increased, but the cost of doing a given amount of work has 
greatly decreased, ao that five men can now do the work which would have demanded 
the labour of eight men in laM). ff this be correct, the saving of labour is 40 per cent, 
in producing any given article.” (“ Appreciation of (ioid,” by willilMn Fowler, Fellow of 
Universily College, Itondon. 1886.) 



should be always kept^on.hand at the one spot in Europe where the 
consumers of such commodities could speedily supply themselves with 
any article they required ; and that spot, by reason of geographical 
position and commercial advantage, was England. Out of this con- 
ditiop of affairs came naturally a vast system of warehousing# in and 
distribution from England, and of British banking and exchange. 
Then came the opening of the canal. What were the results ? The 
old transportation had been performed by ships, mainly sailing-vessels, 
fitted to go round the Cape, and as such ships were not adapted to 
the Suez Canal, an amount of tonnage, estimated by some authorities 
at as much as two million tons, aud representing an immense amount 
of wealth, was virtually destroyed.* The voyage, in place of occupying 
from six to eight months, has been so greatly reduced that steamers 
adapted to the canal now make the voyage from London to Calcutta, 
or tyfce versa, in less than thirty days. The notable destruction or 
great impairment in the value of ships consequent upon the con- 
struction of the canal did not, furthermore, terminate with its 
immediate opening and use ; for improvements in marine engines, 
diminishing the consumption of coal, and so enabling vessels not only 
to be sailed at less cost, but to carry also more cargo, were, in con- 
sequence of demand for quick and cheap service, so rapidly effected, 
that the numerous and expensive steamer constructions of 1870-73, 
being unable to compete with the constructions of the next two years, 
were nearly all disjdaced in 1875-70, and sold for half, or less than 
half, of their original cost. And within another decade these same im- 
proved steamers of 1S75-70 have, in turn, been discarded and sold at 
small prices as unfit for the ser\ice of lines having an established trade, 
and replaced w'ith vessels fitted with the triple-expansion engines, and 
saving from eighteen to twenty-five jlcr cent, in the consumption of 
fuel. To which may be added that an iron cargo-steamer of 2,000 tons, 
which even as late as 18S3 cost .C24,000 in Great Britain to build, 
can now (1887) be built with all the modern improvements for about 
.£14,000. In all commercial history, probably, no more striking 
illustration can be found of the economic principle that nothing more 
clearly marks the rate of material progress than the rapidity with 
which that which is old and has been considered wealth is destroyed 
by the results of new inventions and discoveries. 

Again, with telegraphic communication between India and China 
and the markets of the Western world permitting the dealers and con- 
sumers of the latter to adjust to a nicety their supplies of commodities 
to varying demands, and with the reduction of the time of the voyage 

* ** Tlie canal may therefore be said to have given a death-blow to sailing-vessels, 
except for a few special purposes.” (From’ a paper by Mr. Charles Magiuao, tloscnbed 
by the KatvomUt as a merohant of eminence and experience, entitled to spiMk 
with auth(»rity, read before the Indian Section of the Loudon Society of Arts, 
February, 1^80) 



to thirty days or less, there was no longer any necessity of laying up 
great stores of Eastern commodities in Europe ; and with the termi- 
nation of this necessity the India warehouse and distribution system 
of England, with all the labour and all the capital and banking incident 
to it, substantially passed away. Europe, and to some exten^t the 
United States, ceased to go to England for its supplies. If Austria 
wanted anything of Indian product, it arrived en route, by the Suez 
Canal, at Trieste ; if Italy, at Venice or Genoa ; if France, at Mar- 
seilles ; if Spain, at Cadiz. As a rule, also, stocks of Indian produce 
are now kept, not only in the countries, but at the very localities of 
their production, and are there drawn upon as they are wanted for 
immediate consumption, with a greatly reduced employment of the 
former numerous and expensive intermediate agencies.* Thus, a Cal- 
cutta Incrchant or commission agent at any of the world^s great 
centres of commerce, contracts through a clerk and the telegraph 
with a manufacturer in any country — it may be half round the 
globe in distance — to sell him jute, cotton, hides, spices, ciitch, linseed, 
or other like India produce. f An inevitable steamer is sure to be in 
an Eastern port, ready to sail upon short notice ; the merchandise 
wanted is bought by telegraph, hurried on board the ship, and the 
agent draws for the price agreed upon through some bank with the 
shipping documents. In four weeks, in the case of England, and a 
lesser time for countries intermediate, the shipment arrives ; the 
manufacturer pays the bill, either with his own money or his bankers^ ; 
and before another week is out the cotton and the jute ai'e going 
through the factory, the linseed has been converted into oil, and 

* In illustration of this curious point, attention is a>kcil to the. lolhiwinj;: extract from 
a review* of the trade of llritis-h India, for the year fnnn the Tiniiit of 

published at JJomhay; “ What tin* increaiitile eoinmniuiy f' . of Jhmibayj suOerod 
and is snfiering from, i.-, the very narrow iiiargin which now b*-Uvc*eii tin: jircslucer 

and con-sniner. Twenty x'cars a^o the larpre iiiij»ortin:; honses li«*ld stocks, but nowadays 
nearly everj’tliin^MS sold to arrive, or bought in cxccuti<ni ot native orders, and the 
bazaar dexders. instead of the Kiiro[ieaii iini*orter.M, have boconit- the hoMerM of stocks. I'hc 
caVile and canal have to answer for the transformation ; winh* the* w ith which funds 
can be secured at home by individuals absidiitely destitute of alt knowl(*dgc of the trade, 
and minus the capital to work it, has resulted in the diminution of pndits lioth to 
importers and to bazaar dealers.” 

T Familiar as are the public ^renorally witli the o}»i'ratioin of the telegraph and the 
changes in trade and couuneire cmsc.juent upon its submarine evtensiou, the following 
incident of jtersonal expcricncic may j»rcsent certain features with which they are not 
acquainted: In the winter of the writer journeyed from New York to Washiiigtou 
with an eminent liostmi menhant enejaged in the Calcutta t..ade. (ailing uiK)H the 
merchant the same evening after arrival at Washington, he saol ; ‘‘ Here is something, 

Mr. , that may interest yos. Ju.sL licfore leaving State Sttcut, in Boston, yesterday 

forenoon, I telegraphed to my agent in (’alcutta, ' If you can !/uv hides and guimydwgs 

as price, and bud a vessel rearly t^) charti-r, buy and shiji.’ When I arrived here 

(Washington; this afternoon (4 i*.M ], I foundawaitinir me this telegram from my partner 
in Boston, covering another from ('alcutta, r<(;eive<l in answer to my dispatch of tho 
previous day, whii;h read as follows : ‘//idc« and (pinuy-hutjs vet^el charfered, 

and loading ieginK^ ’ 

Here, then, as an cveiyvlay occurrence, was the record of a transaction on the other 
side the globe, the corre.^fjondeDce in relation to which travelled a distance equivalent 
to the entire circumference of the globe, all completed in a space of little wore than 
twenty-four hours ! 



the hides in the tannery are being transformed into leather. What 
has happened in the case of East Indian produce seems also likely to 
happen in the case of the great product of Australia — namely, wool 
— which for many years has been shipped mainly to London for sale 
and distribution ; for, with the increased facilities and reduction in 
the cost of travel and transportation by the Suez Canal route, the 
tendency in recent years has been to transfer the market for this 
wool to the country of its growth ; as European, Continental, and to 
some extent American, manufacturers are finding out that by this 
new arrangement they can have their raw material delivered to them 
within two or three months from the time of purchase, instead of 
three or four from the date of shipment to London, and at the same 
time avoid, to a considerable extent, the ‘‘ profits and the corners 
of middle-men and speculators.. Under these circumstances the day 
is probably not far distant when the whole wool crop of Australia, 
like the cotton crop of the United States, will be sold before ship- 
ment ; and anothcr-long established course of trade, which has 
brought buyers from all the world to London, will be broken up, to 
the temporary injury and loss of some, but to the greater advan- 
tage of the many. And iu anticipation of this change, the largest 
warehouses iu the world, some covering an area of five acres, have 
recently been erected in ilelbournc, Sydney, and other Australian 

Importations of East Indian produce are also no longer confined 
in England and other countries to a special class of merchants; and 
so generally has tin’s formerly large and special department of trade 
been broken up and dispersed, tha: extensive retail grocers in the 
larger cities of Europe and the United States arc now reported as 
drawing their supplies direct from native dealers in both China and 

Another curious and recent result of the Suez Canal construction, 
operating in a quarter and upon an industry that could not well 
have been anticipated, has been its efl'ect on an important department 
of Italian agriculture — ^namely, the* culture of rice. This cereal has 
for many years been a staple crop of I taly, and a leading article of 
Italian export — the total ex])ort for the year 1881 having amounted 
to 83,598 tons, or 167,190,000 pounds. Since the jear 1878, how- 
ever, rice grown in Uiirmah, and other parts of the far East, has 
been imported into Italy and other countries of Southern Europe in 
such enormous and continually inereasiug quantities, and at such 
rates, as to excite great apprehensions among the growers of Italian 
rice, and to largely diminish its exportation — the imports of Eastern 
rice into Italy alone having increased from 11,957 tons in 1878 to 
nearly 70,000 tons in 1883. 

That the same causes are also exerting a like influence upon the 



marketing of the cereal crops of the Ignited States is shown by the 
circumstance that the freight rates on the transport of grain from 
Bombay to England, by way of the Suez (-anal, have declined from 
32'5 cents per bushel in 1880, to 16*2 cents in 1885 ; and to the 
extent of *this decline has the ability of the Indian ryot to compete 
with the American grain*grower in the markets of Europe been 
increased. <■ 

How great was the disturbance occasioned in the general {^es of 
the commodities that enter into Eastern commerce by the opening of 
the Suez Canal, and how quickly prices respond to the introduction 
of improvements in distribution, is illustrated by the following 
experience : — The value of the total trade of India with foreign 
countries, exclusive of its coasting trade, was estimated at the time 
of the opening of the canal in 18(>0 at £105,500,000. In ISr i, 
however, the value was estimated at only £95,500.000, a reduction of 
ten per cent. ; and the inference might naturally have been that such 
a large reduction as ten millions sterling in five years, with u 
concurrent increase in the world’s population, could only indicate 
a reduction of quantities. But that such was not the case was 
shown by the fact that 250,000 tons more shipping (mainly steam, 
and therefore equivalent to at least 500,000 more tons of sail) were 
employed in transporting commodities between India and foreign 
countries in 1874 than in 1869 ; so that while the value of the trade, 
through a reduction of prices, had notably declined during this period, 
the quantities entering into trade had so greatly increased during the 
same time that 250,000 tons more shipping were rcipiired to convey 
it. In short, the construction of the Suez Canal eomplotely revolu- 
tionized one of the greatest departments of the world’s commerce and 
business ; absolutely destroying an immense amount of what had 
previously been wealth, and displacing or changing the employment 
of millions of capital and thousands of men ; or, as the Economist 
has expressed it, " so altered and so twisted many of the exist-* 
ing modes and channels of business as to create mischief and 
confusion ” to an extent sufFicietit to constitute one great general 
cause for a universal commercial and industrial depression and dis- 

The deductions to be drawn from the most recent tonnage statistics of 
Great Britain come properly next in order for consideration. During the 
ten years from 1870 to 1880 inclusive, the British mercantile marine 
increased its activity, in the matter of foreign entries and clearances 
alone, to the extent of twenty-two million tons ; or, to put it more 
simply^ the British mereauiile marine exclusively engaged in foreign 
trade did so much more work within the period named ; and yet the 
number of men who were employed in effecting this great increase 
had decreased in 1880^ as compared with 1870, to the extent of about 



three thousand (2,990 exactly). What was the cause of this? The 
introduction of steam-hoisting machines and grain elevators upon 
the wharves and docks, and the employment of steam-power upon 
tlie vessels for steering, raising the sails and anchors, pumping, and 
discharging the cargo ; or, in other words, the ability, through the 
increased use of steam and improved machinery, to carry larger 
caigoes in a shorter time, witl^no increase — or, rather, with an actual 
decrease — of the number of men employed in sailing or managing the 

Statistical investigations of a later date furnish even more striking 
illustrations to the same efiect from this industrial department. Thus, 
in 1870 the number of men actually employed for every 1,000 tons 
capacity, entered or cleared, of the British steam mercantile marine, 
is reported to have been 47, but in 1884 it was only 28 ; showing that 
seventy percent, more manual labour was required in 1870 than in 1884 
to do the same work. In sailing vessels the change, owing to a lesser 
degree of improvement in the details of navigation, has been naturally 
smaller, but nevertheless it has been considerable ; 28 hands being re- 
quired in 1881 as against 83 in 1870 for the same tonnage entered or 
cleared ; to which it may be added that if in these comparisons the ton- 
nage of freight actually transported had been taken, in place of tonnage 
entered and cleared, whether light, partially or fully loaded, the differ- 
ence in the labour required for maritime transport in favour of 1884 
would undoubtedly have been even greater. Another fact of interest is, 
that the recent increase in the proportion of large vessels constructed 
has so greatly increased the efficiency of shipping, and so cheapened 
the cost of sea-carriage, to the advantage of both producers and 
consumers, that much business that was before impossible has become 
quite possible. Of the total British tonnage constructed in 1870, 
only six per cent, was of vessels in excess of 2,000 tons burden ; 
but in 1884 fully seventeen per cent, was of vessels of that size, or 
larger. Meanwhile, the cost of new iron ships has been reduced, in 
Great Britain, from £18 per ton in 1872-74 to £13 in 1877, £11 10^. 
in 1880, and less than £40 in 1885-86. Prior to about the year 
1875 ocean steamships had not been formidable as freight-carriers. 
The marine engine was too heavy, occupied too much space, consumed 
too much coal. For transportation of passengers, and of freight 
having large value in small space, they were satisfactory ; but for 
performing a general carrying trade of the heavy and bulky articles 
of commerce they were not satisfactory. A steamer of the old 
kind, capable of carrying 3,000 tons, might sail on a voyage so long 
that she would be compelled to carry 2,200 tons of coal, leaving 
room for only 800 tons of freight ; whereas at the present time a 
steamer with the compound engines, and all other modern improve- 
ments, can make the same voyage and practically reverse the figures — 

VOL. LII. u 



that iS| cany 2^200 tons of freight with a consumption of only 800 tons 
of coal. How under such circumstances the charge for sea-freights 
on articles of comparatively high value has been reduced is shown 
by the fact that the ocean transport of fresh meat from New York 
to Liverpool does not exceed a halfpenny per pound ; and including 
commissions, insurance, and all other items of charge, does not exceed 
one penny per pound. Boxed meaU hp^ve also been carried from 
Chicago to London as a regular business for 2^. per 100 pounds. 
In 1860, 6rf. per bushel was about the lowest rate charged for any 
length of time for the transport of bulk grain from New York to 
Liverpool, and fojr a part of that year the rate ran up as high as 
13Jrf. per bushel. But for the year 1880 the average rate for 
the same service was 2jtd. per bushel. In like manner, the cost of 
the ocean transport of tea from China and Japan, or sugar from 
Cuba, or coffee from Brazil, has been greatly reduced by the same 

The above are examples on a large scale of the disturbing influence 
of the recent application of steam to maritime industries. The fol- 
lowing is an example drawn from comparatively one of the smallest 
of the world’s industries, prosecuted in one of the most out-of-the-way 
places : — ^The seal-fishery is a most important industrial occupation 
and source of subsistence to the poor and scanty population of New'- 
foundland. Originally it was prosecuted in small sailing-vessels, and 
upwards of a hundred of such craft, employing a large number of 
men, annually left the port of St. John’s for the seal-hunt. Now 
few or no sailing-vessels engage in the business ; steamers have been 
substituted, and the same number of seals are taken with half the 
number of men that were formerly needed. The consequence is, a 
diminished opportunity for a population of few resources ; and to 
obtain "a berth on the ice/’ as it is termed, is now considered a 

Is it, therefore, to be wondered at that the sailing-vessel is fast 
disappearing from the ocean ; that good authorities estimated in 1886 
that the tonnage then afloat was •about twenty-five per cent, in excess 
of all that was needed to do the then carrying trade of the world ; 
and that shipowners everywhere have been unanimously of the 
opinion that the depression of industry is universal ? 

Great, however, as has been the revolution in respect to economy 
and efficiency in the carrying trade upon the ocean, the revolution in 
the carrying trade upon laud during the same period has been even 
greater and more remarkable. Taking the American railroads in 
general as representative of the railroad system of the world, the 
average charge for moving one ton of freight per mile has been 
reduced from about 2-5 cents (1 Jrf,) in 1869 to 105 in 1885 ; or, taking 
the results on one of the standard lines of the United States (the 



New York Central), from 1*95 in 1869 to 0’68 in 1885. To grasp 
fully the meaning and significance of these figures, their method of 
presentation may be varied by saying that two thousand pounds of 
coal, iron, wheat, cotton, or other commodities, can now be carried 
on the best managed railways, for a distance of one mile, for a sum 
so small that outside of China it would be difficult to find a coin of 
equivalent value to give to a boy as a reward for carrying an ounce 
package across a street, even if a man or boy could be found in 
Europe or the United States willing to give or accept so small a 
compensation for such a service. 

The following ingenious method of illustrating the same results 
has been also suggested : — The number of miles of railroad in opera- 
tion in various parts of the world in 1885 was probably about 300,000. 
Reckoning their capacity for transportation at a rate not greater 
than the results actually achieved in that same year in the United 
States, it would appear that the aggregate railroad system of the 
world could easily have performed work in 1885 equivalent to trans- 
porting 120,000,000,000 tons one mile. But if it is next considered 
that it is a fair day's work for an ordinary horse to haul a ton 6 7 
miles, year in and year out, it further appears that the railways have 
added to the power of the human race for the satisfaction of its 
desires by the cheapening of products, a force somewhat greater than 
that of a horse working twelve days yearly for every inhabitant of 
the globe." Less than half a century ago the railroad was practi- 
cally unknown.* It is therefore within that short period that this 
enormous power has been placed at the disposal of every inhabitant 
of the globe for the cheapening of transportation to him of the pro- 
ducts of other people and countries, and for enabling him to market 
or exchange to better advantage the results of his own labour or 
services. As the extension of the railway system has, however, not 
been equal in all parts of the^ world — less than 25,000 miles existing, 
at the close of 1884, in Asia, Africa, and Australia combined — its 
accruing benefits have not, of course, been equal. And while all the 
inhabitants of the globe have undoubtedly been benefited in a degree, 
by far the greater part of the enormous additions that have been made 
to the world’s working force through railways since 1840 have 
accrued to the benefit of the people of the United States, and of 
Europe (exclusive of Russia, Turkey, and the former Turkish pro- 
vinces of south-eastern Europe), a number ubt much exceeding two 
hundred millions, or not a quarter part of the entire population of the 
globe. The result of this economic change has therefore been to 

* As late as 1840 there were in operation only about 2,860 miles of railway in 
America, and 2,1.30 in Europe, or a total of 4,990 miles. For practical purposes it may 
therefore be said that the world’s railway system did not then exist ; while its organiza- 
tion and correspondence for doing full and efiScient work must be referred to a much 
later period. ^ 

u 2 



broaden and deepen rather than diminish the line of separation, 
between the civilized and the semi-civilized and barbarous nations. 

Now, while a multiplicity of inventions and of experiences have 
contributed to the attainment of such results under this railway 
system of transportation, the discovery of a method of making steel 
cheap was the one thing which was absolutely essential to make them 
finally possible ; inasmuch as the cost of frequently replacing rails of 
iron would have entailed such a burden of expenditure as to have 
rendered the present cheapness of railway transportation utterly 
unattainable. And it is most interesting to note how rapidly im- 
provements in processes have followed the discovery of Bessemer, 
until, on the score of relative first cost alone, it has become econo- 
mical to substitute steel for iron in railway construction.* In 1873 
Bessemer steel in England, where its price has not been enhanced by 
protective duties, commanded .tlG per ton ; in 1886 it was profitably 
manufactured and sold in the same country for less than per ton ! 
Within the same time the annual producing capacity of a Bessemer 
converter has been increased fourfold, with no increase, but rather a 
diminution, of the involved labour; and by the Gilchrist-Thomas 
process, four men can now make a given product of steel in the same 
time and with less cost of material than it took ten men ten years ago 
to accomplish. A ton of steel rails can now also be made with 5,000 
pounds of coal, as compared with 10,fK)0 pounds in 1808. 

One of the most momentous and what may be called humanitarian 
results of the recent great extension and cheapening of the world’s 
railway system and service is, that there is now no longer any occa- 
sion for the people of any country indulging in either excessive hopes 
or fears as to the results of any particular harvest, inasmuch as the 
failure of crops in any one ijountry is no longer, as it was no later 
than twenty years ago, identical with high prices of grain ; the prices 
of cereals being at present regulated, not within any particular country, 
but by the combined production and consumption of all coun- 
tries made mutually accessible by railways and steamships. Hence 
it is that, since 1870, years of locally bad crops in Europe have gene- 
rally witnessed considerably lower prices than years when the local 
crops were good, and there was a local surplus for export. 

In short, one marked effect of the present railway and steamship 
system of transportation bas been to compel a uniformity of prices for 
all commodities that arb essential to life, and to put an end for ever 
to what, less than half a century ago, was a constant feature of com- 
merce — namely, the existence of local markets with widely divergent 

* TbeaTeTa{(e price of iron rails in Great Britain fwr tl»e year 1883 was £5 per ton ; 
steel rails in the same market sold in IS6(i for £*4 .Is. |>er ton. Since the beginning of 
1883 the manufacture of iron rails in the United States has b^n almost entirely discoo* 
tinned, and daring the years from 1883 to 1887 there were virtually no market quotations 
for them. The last recorded average price for iron rails was $454 per ton in 1882. The 
yearly average ]^rice of steel rails at the works in Pennsylvania for 1880 was $28^. 



prices for such commodities. How much of misery andl starvation a 
locally deficient harvest entailed under the old system upon the poorer 
classes^ through the absence of opportunity of supplying the deficiency 
thibugh importations, is shown by the circumstance that in the Eng> 
lish debates upon the corn laws^ about the year 1840, it was estimated, 
upon data furnished by Mr. Tooke, in his “ History of Prices/^ that a 
deficiency of one-sixth in the English harvest resulted in a rise of at 
least 100 per cent, in the price of grain ; and another estimate by I)ave- 
nant and King, for the close of the seventeenth century, corroborates 
this apparently excessive statement. The estimate of these latter 
authorities was as follows : — For a deficit equal to one-tenth there 
will be a rise in price of 3*10 per cent. ; two-tenths, 8*10 per cent. ; 
three-tenths, 16*10 per cent.; four-tenths, 28 10 per cent.; and 
five-tenths, 45T0 per cent. As late as 1817 the difierence in France 
between the highest and the lowest prices of grain in different parts of 
the country was 45 francs per hectolitre ; in 1847 the average differ- 
ence was 20 francs. Since 1870 the greatest difference at any time 
has not been in excess of 3*55 francs. The following table, given on 
German authority, and representing the price (in silver gulden per 
hectolitre) of grain for various periods, exhibits a like progress of 
price equalization between nations : 

Pkkiod. England. France. Belgium, j Prussia. 


1821-30 . 

10-25 j 

7.35 1 



1831-40 . 

9-60 i 

7-01 J 



1841-50 . 


7*8 9 1 



1851-CO . 


7-84 ' 


1 8*07 

1801-70 . 

8-80 i 

8-59 > 





For grain henceforth, therefore, the railway and the steamship 
have decided that there shall be but one market — the world ; find that 
the margin for speculation in this commodity, so essential to the irell- 
bl&ing of humanity, shall be restricted to very narrow limits. 

The world^s total product of pig-iron increased slowly and regu- 
larly from 1870 to 1879, at the rate of about 2J per cent, per annum ; 
but after 1879 production increased enormously, '* until in 18B3 the 
advance among all nations reached 182*2 •per cent, on the make of 
1870 ; that of the United Kingdom being 143*0, and of other countries 
239*1 per cent.”^ Such an increase, justified perhaps at the moment, 
was far in excess of the ratio of increase in the world's population, and 
for a term of years greatly disproportionate to any increase in the 
world’s consumption, and finally resulted in an extreme depression 

* Testimony of Sir Lowtbian Bell, British Commission, 1880. 



in tlie business^ and a remarkable fall of prices* One experience 
from this condition of affairs in the United States is urorthy of being 
placed on record. For a long time the effect of prevailing high prices 
for pig-iroBj coupled with the influence of high protective dnifes 
imposed on the imports of foreign iron^ was to maintain a large 
number of inferior furnaces in operation ; but after 1882-83 the most 
intelligent American iron-producers were <3ompelledj as it were, to 
meet the stagnation and absence of profit in their business by 
effecting improvements in the quality of their furnaces, and un- 
doubtedly also in their management ; and with such effect that the 
average weekly capacity of the anthracite furnaces of the United 
States has been increased since 1883 from 220 to 201 tons, and of 
" bituminous " from 316 tons to 507, or to the extent of 46 per cent. 

In the department of textile manufactures investigation shows 
that, owing to the greater effectiveness of cotton machinery, the 
manufacture of cotton goods during recent years has also increased 
in a greater ratio than the increase of population, and that this 
increase has been going on at the rate of doubling the production in 
about twenty years. In the United States the doubling period of 
population is now about thirty -three years ; in Europe, about seventy- 
five years ; and, while in Oriental countries the doubling period 
is not definitely known, it is unquestionably longer than that of the 
United States. It would therefore seem certain that not only is 
this present product of manufactured cottons in^exccss of the world's 
present exchanging capacity, but without a decrease in 

machinery product, the world's i)ji|5ulatiori must speedily increase 
their annual per capita consum;^on if this state of things is not to 
continue. The report ,cyf the factory inspectors of the textile 
industries of Great Britain for 1883 shows the following curious 
changes, conset^iyent on improvements in machinery, to have taken 
place in th^ cotton manufacture of Great Britain since 1874 ; — A 
decrease oy twenty in the whole number of cotton factories ; an 
increase ^of (throwing) spindles of 2,604,679, or O’ 7 per cent, (a 
resuj^ doubtless owing to the great improvement in the producing 
c^^city of the spindle) ; an increase of 6 1 per cent, in the number of 
,J|^rsons employed, and an increase in the number of looms of 97,000, 
or 21 per cent. Taking all the textile industries of Great Britain into 
consideration, the number of hands employed in 1881, as compared 
with 1874, has not decreased, although the increase (2’8 per cent.) 
has been small in proportion to the increase in production. The 
number of children employed in 1881 was 34,000 less than 1874, 
while the number of male and female adults employed increased about 
65,000 ; a change that implies an improvement in the social condi- 
tion of the country, as well as an increased production. 

The displacement of muscular labour in some of the cotton-mills 
of the United States, within the last ten years, by improved machinery, 



lias been from ,33 to 50 per cent. ; and tbe average work of one 
operative working one year, in the best mills of the United States, will 
now, according to Mr. Atkinson, supply the annual wants of 1,600 
fully clothed Chinese, or 3,000 partially clothed EastJndians. In 1840 
an operative in the cotton-mills of Rhode Island, working thirteen to 
fourteen hours a day, turned off 9,600 yards of standard sheeting in 
a year ; in 1886 an operative in the same mill made about 30,000 
yards, working ten hours a day. In 181*0 the wages were $176 a 
year ; in 1886 the wages were $285 a year. 

The United States census returns for 1880 report a very large 
increase in the amount of coal and copper produced during the 
ten previous years, with a very large comparative diminution in 
the number of hands employed in these two great mining in- 
dustries; in anthracite coal the increase in the number of hands 
employed having been 33*2 per cent., as compared with an increase 
of product of 82*7 ; while in the case of copper the ratios were 15*8 
and 70 8 respectively. For such results the use of cheaper and more 
powerful blasting agents (dynamite), and of the steam-drill, furnish 
an explanation. And in the way of further illustration it may be 
stated that a car-load of coal, in the principal mining districts of the 
United States, can now (1887) be mined, hoisted, screened, ‘cleaned, 
and loaded in one-half the time that it required ten years previously. 

The Report of the United States Commissioner of Labour for 
1886 furnishes the following additional illustrations : — 

** Jn the maniifacturo of agricultural implements specific evidence is 
submitted, showing that six hundred men now do the work that, fifteen or 
twenty years ago, would have required 2,145 men ; a displacement of 1,545. 

“ The manufacture of boots and shoes offers some very wonderful facts in 
this connection. In one large and long-established manufactory the proprietors 
testify that it would require five hundred persons, working by hand processes, 
to make as many women\s boots and shoes as a hundred persons now make 
witli the aid of machinery ; a displacement of 80 per cent. 

Another firm, engaged in the manufacture of children’s shoes, states that 
the introduction of new machinery within the past thirty yeai^*’^ 's displaced 
about six times the amount of hand-labour required, and that the '>st of the 
product has been reduced one-half. fgj 

‘‘ On another grade of goods the facts collected by the agents^ ireau 

show that one man can no^v do the work which twenty yeary"!^^^®®®’ ^ ired 
ten men. luivalc^ 

** In the manufacture of flour there has been a displacement of nearly’tnre>- 
fourths of the manual labour necessary to produce the same product. In the 
manufacture of furniture, from one-half to tUree-lburths only of the old 
number of persons is no^v required. In the manufacture of wall-paper the 
best evidence jmts the displacement in tbe proportion of one Imndred to one. 
In the manufacture of metals and metiillic goods long-establislied firms testify 
that machinery has decreased manual labour 33 ^ per cent.” 

The following are other notable results in what may be termed 
the minor industries : — 

In the manufaeture of jewellery, one skilled workman, paid at the 
rate of two and a half to three dollars a day, and ‘working accord- 



iog to ante-machine methods in use a few years ago, could make up 
three dozen pairs of sleeve-buttons per day. Now, one boy, paid five 
dollars per week, and working on the most modern machinery, can 
make up nine thousand pairs in a day. In gold (or imitation gold) 
chain-making the United States now exports the cheapest grade of 
such jewellery produced by machinery to Germany, where cottage 
hand-labour, in the same avocation, can be had for a pittance, and 
finds a ready sale for it as against German manufacturers. 

Nothing has had a greater influence in making possible the 
rapidity with which certain branches of retail business are now con- 
ducted, as compared with ten years ago— more especially the sale of 
groceries — than the cheap and rapid production of paper bags. At 
the outset, these bags were all made by hand-labour, but now 
machinery has crowded out the hand-workers, and factories are in 
existence in the United States which produce millions of paper bags 
per week, and not unfrequently file single orders for three millions. 
"With machinery have also come many improvements : square bags 
that stand up of themselves, and need only, when filled from a measure, 
to have the top edges turned over to make the package at once ready 
for delivery. A purchaser can now also take his butter or lard in 
paper trays that are brine and grease proof ; his vinegar in paper jars 
that are warranted not to soak for one hour ; a bottle of wine wrapped 
in a corrugated case that would not break if he dropped it on the 
pavement ; and his oysters in paper pails that will hold water over- 
night. A few years ago, to have fuinished gratuitously these packages 
would have been deemed extravagance ; but now it is found to pay as 
a matter of business. 

The sobrhjuet of an apothecary was formerly that of a pill-maker ; 
but the modern apothecary no longer makes pills except upon special 
prescriptions, inasmuch as scores of large manufactories now pro- 

duce pills by machinery accojpyiing *to the standard or other formulas, 
and everyj||othecary ke^'^nd sells them, because they are cheaper, 
better, than any that he can make himself. 

^^Sroubtlef*^^^^^® occupation, formerly of considerable import- 
the influence of recent improvements seem to be passing 
^..icnce. Previous to 1872 nearly all the calicoes of the 
.*ere dyed or printed with a colouring principle extracted from 
the rcot known as ‘‘ madder,^^ the cultivation and preparation of 
which involved the use x»f thousands of acres of land in Holland, 

Belgium, Eastern France, Italy, and the Levant, and the employment 

of many hundreds of men, women, and children, and of large amounts 

of capital ; the importation of madder into England for the year 
1872 having been 28,731,000 pounds, and into the United States for 

the same year 7,786,000 founds. To-day, two or three chemical 
establishments in Germany and England, employing but few men 
and a comparatively small capital, manufacture from coal-tar, at a 



greatly reduced price, the same colouring principle ; and the former 
great business of growing and preparing madder — with the land, 
labour, and capital involved — is gradually becoming extinct ; the im- 
portations into Great Britain for the year 1885 having declined to 
2,472,000 pounds, and into the United States to 1,458,313 pounds. 

The old-time art of making millstones — entitled to rank among 
the very first of labour-saving inventions at the very dawn of 
civilization — is rapidly passing into oblivion, because millstones are 
no longer necessary or economical for grinding the cereals. The 
steel roller produces more and better flour in the same time at less 
cost, and as an inevitable consequence is rapidly taking the place of 
the millstone in all countries that know how to use machinery. And 
as the art of skilfully grooving the surface of a hard, flinty rock for 
its conversion into a millstone is so laborious, so difficult of accom- 
plishment (four or five years of service being required in France 
from an apprentice before be is allowed to touch a valuable stone), 
and to a certain extent so dangerous from the flying particles of steel 
and stone, humanity, apart from all economic considerations, may 
well rejoice at its desuetude. 

With the substitution of steamers for sailing vessels upon the broad 
ocean, the former extensive business of sail-making, and the demand 
upon factories for heavy cloth as material for sails, experienced a 
notable depression, which in later years has continued and increased, 
because commerce along coast-lines also now no longer moves 
exclusively by sail, but largely in barges dragged or propelled by 
steam. For the four years next previous to 1886 the demand for 
sails in the United States is estimated to have decreased to the 
extent of about 25 per cent., although the carrying trade of the 
country by ocean, coast, and inland waters, has during the same 
time increased very considerably. 

Cotton-seed oil — an article a few years ago absolutely unknown in 
commerce, and prepared from what was formerly regarded almost in 
the light of a waste product — is now manufactured in the United 
States, and has come into such extensive use as a substitute for lard, 
olive and other oils, for culinary and manufacturing purposes, that 
its present annual production and sale are estimated to be equivalent 
to about 70,000,000 pounds of lard ; and has contributed not only to 
notably reduce the price and the place of that important hog-product 
in the world's markets, but also to impair the production and depress 
the price of almost all other vegetable oils, the product of the industries 
of other countries. 

But in respect to no other single article has change in the conditions 
of production and distribution been productive of such momentous 
consequences as in the case of wheat. On the great wheat-fields of 
the territory of Dakota, where machinery is applied to agriculture to 
such an extent that the requirement for manual labour has been 



reduced to a xnmimuzu, the annual product^ of one man's labour, 
working to the best advantage, is understood to be now equivalent to 
the production of 5,500 bushels of wheat. In the great mills of 
Minnesota, the labour of another one man for a year, under similar 
conditions as regards machinery, is in like manner equivalent to the 
conversion of this unit of 5,500 bushels of wheat into a thousand 
bands of flour, leaving 500 bushels for se^d purposes ; and although 
the conditions for analysis of the next step in the way of results are 
more difficult, it is reasonably certain that the year’s labour of one 
and a half men more — or at the most two men — employed in railway 
transportation, is equivalent to putting this thousand barrels of flour 
on a dock in New York ready for exportation, vhere the addition of 
a fraction of a cent a pound to the price will further transport and 
deliver it at almost any port of Europe.* 

Here, then, we have the labour of three men for one year, working 
with machinery, resulting in producing all the flour that a thousand 
other men ordinarily eat in a year, allowing one barrel of flour for 
the average consumption of each adult. Before such a result the 
question of wages paid in the different branches of flour production 
and transportation becomes an insignificant factor in determining n 
market; and accordingly American flour grown in Dakota and 
ground in Minneapolis, from a thousand tO'^fifteen hundred miles from 
the nearest seaboard and under the auspices of men paid from a dol- 
lar and a half to two dollars and a half per day for their labour, is 
sold in European markets at rates which arc determinative of the 
prices which Russian peasants, Egyptian fellahs/^ find Indian ** ryots *' 
can obtain in the same markets fer similar grain grown by them on 
equally good soil, and with fydm fifteen to twenty cents per day wages 
for their labour. / 

A great number- of other similar and equally remarkable experi- 
ences, derived^ from almost every department of industry except the 
handicraf^'^ight be presented ; but it would seem that enough evi- 
dence hsL heen offered to prove abundantly that, in the increased 
control which mankind has acquired over the forces of Nature, and in 
the iQQ^ased utilization of such control — mainly through machinery 
— for/ the work of production and distribution, is to be found a cause 
Kopiy sufficient to account for the economic disturbance which, since 
the year 1873, has been certainly universal in its influence over the 

* When the wheat reaches New York city, and comes into the possession of a great 
baker, who has established the manufacture of bread on a large scale, and who seUs the 
best of bread to the working people of New York at the lowest possible price, we find 
that one thousand barrels of flour can be converted into bread and sold over the counter 
by the work of three persons for one year. Let us add to the six and a half men already 
named the work of another man six months, or h^f a man one year, to keep the 
machinery in rei>air, and our modem miracle is, that seven men suffice to give one thou- 
sand persons all the bread they customarily consume in one year. If to these we add 
three for the work of moviding fuel and other materials to the railway and the baker, 
onr finkl result is, tnatten men working one year serve bread to one thousand.’’ 

(“ Distribution of Vroducts,” by Edward Atkinson.) 



domain of civilization, abnormal to the extent of justifying the claim 
of having been unprecedented in character^ and which bids fair in a 
greater or less degree to infinitely continue. Other cause's may and 
doubtless have contributed to such a condition of affairs, but in this 
one cause alone (if the influences referred to can be properly con- 
sidered as a unity) there lias been sufficient of potentiality to account 
not only for all the econoihic phenomena that are under discussion^ 
but to occasion a feeling of wonder that the world has accommodated 
itself so readily to the cT^tent that it has to its new conditions, and 
that the disturbances have not been very much greater and more 

A question which these conclusions will naturally suggest may at 
once be anticipated : Have not these same influences, it may be 
asked, been exerted during the whole of the present century, and in 
fiict ever since the inception of civilization ; and are there any 
reasons for supposing that this influence has been different during 
recent years in kind and degree from what has been heretofore experi- 
enced ? The answer is, Certainly in kind, but not in degree. The 
world has never seen anything comiiarable to the results of the recent 
system of transportation by land and water, never experienced in so 
short a time such an expansion of all that pertains to what is called 
business, and has never before, as was premised at the outset of this 
argument, been able to accom])lish so much in the way of production 
with a given amount of labour in a given time. Thus it is claimed 
in respect to the German Empire, where the statistics of production 
and distribution have doubtless been more carefully studied by ex- 
perts than elsewhere, that during the period from 1872 to 1885 there 
was an expansion in the railway traffic of the empire of ninety per 
cent.; in maritime tonnage of about a hundred and twenty per cent.; 
in the general mercantile or commercial business, of sixty-seven 
per cent.; in postal matter carried, of a hundred and eight per cent ; 
in telegraphic dispatches, of sixty-one per cent.; and in bank dis- 
counts, of two hundred and forty per cent. During the same period 
population increased about eleven and a half per cent., and from such 
data there has been a general deduction that, “ if one unit of trade 
was the ratio to one unit of population in Germany in 1872, the pro- 
portion in 1885 was more than ten units of trade to one of popula- 
tion.^^ But, be this as it may, it cannot be doubted that, whatever 
has been the industrial expansion of Germany in recent years, it has 
been at least equalled by England, approximated to by France, and 
certainly surpassed by the United States. 

There is very much that contributes to the support of the idea 
which has been suggested by M. Laveleye, editor of the Moniteur 
des Interets MatSriels at. Brussels, that the industrial activity of 
the greater part of this century has been devoted to fully equipping 
civilized countries of the world with economic tools, and that the 



work of the future, in this same sphere, must be necessarily that of 
repair and replacements, rather than of new constructions. But a 
more important inference from this same idea, and one that fully 
harmonizes with and rationally explains the phenomena of the existing 
situation, is, that the equipment having at last been made ready, the 
work of using it for production has in turn begun, and has been 
prosecuted so eflBciently, that the world ha^s within recent years, and 
for the first time, become saturated, as it were, under existing con- 
ditions *for use and consumption, with the results of these modern 
improvements. Again, although the great natural labour-saving 
agencies had been recognized and brought into use many years prior 
to 1870, their powers were long kept, as it were, in abeyance; 
because it required time for the instrumentalities or methods by 
which the world’s work of production and distribution was carried 
on to adjust themselves to new conditions, and until this was accom- 
plished an almost infinite number and variety of inventions, which 
genius had produced for facilitating and accelerating industrial evolu- 
tion, were matters of promise rather than of consummation. But 
with the extension of popular education and the rapid diffusion of 
intelligence, all new achievements in science and art have been 
brought in recent years so much more rapidly " vrithin the sphere of 
the every-day activity of the people — as the noted German inventor, 
Dr. Werner Siemens, has expressed it — that stages of development, 
which ages ago required centuries for their consummation, and which 
at the beginning of our times required decades, now complete them- 
selves in years, and not infrequently present themselves at once iu a 
state of completeness/^ 

An influence which has been more potent iu recent years than 
ever before in stimulating the invention and use of labour-saving 
machinery, and one which should not be overlooked in reasoning 
upon this subject, has been undoubtedly the increasing frequency of 
strikes and industrial revolts on the part of the large proportion of 
the population of all civilized countries engaged in the so-called 
mechanical occupations, which conduct in turn on the part of such 
classes has been certainly largely prompted by the changes in the 
conditions of production resulting from prior labour-saving inventions 
and discoveries. As has been pointed out by the Engineer^ the remedy 
that at once suggests itself to every employer of labour on the occa- 
sion of such trouble with his employes is to use a tool wherever it 
is possible, instead of a man/’ And one significant illustration of 
the quickness with which employers carry out this suggestion is 
afforded by the well-authenticated fact, that a strike among the boot 
and shoe factories of one county, in the State of Massachusetts, 
resulted in the capacity for producing by the same factories, during 
the succeeding year, a fully equal product, with a reduction of at 
least fifteen hundred operatives ; one machine itnprovement for 



effecting an operation called lasting ” having been introduced, 
which is capable of doing the former work of from two hundred to 
two hundred and fifty men with a force not exceeding fifty men. 

Another fact confirmatory of the above conclusions is that all 
investigators seem to be agreed that the depression of industry in 
recent years has been experienced with the greatest severity in those 
countries where machiner'J^ has been most largely adopted, and least, 
or almost not at all, in those countries and in those occupations 
where hand-labour and hand-labour products have not been materially 
interfered with or supplanted. There is no evidence that the mass of 
the people of any country removed from the great lines of the world^s 
commerce, as in China, India, Turkey, Mexico, and the States of 
Northern Africa, had experienced any economic disturbance prior to 
1883, except from variations in crops or civil commotions ; and if the 
experience of a few of such countries has been different since 1883, 
the causes may undoubtedly be referred to the final influence of long- 
delayed extraneous disturbances, as has been the case in Mexico in 
respect to the universal depreciation of silver,*^ and in J apan from an 
apparent culmination of a long series of changes in the civilization 
and economy of that country. There have, moreover, been no dis- 
placements of labours or reduction in the cost of labour or production in 
all these industries in civilized countries where machinery has not been 
increased ; as, for example, in domestic service, in such departments 
of agriculture as the raising and care of stock, the growing of cotton, 
of flax, hemp, and of tropical fibres of like character, or in such 
mechanical occupations as masonry, painting, upholstering, plastering, 
and cigar- making, or those of engineers, firemen, teamsters, watchmen, 
and the like. 

Finally, it is of the first importance to note how all the other causes 
which have been popularly regarded as having directly occasioned or 
essentially contributed to the recent depression of trade and industry — 
with the exception of such as are in the nature of natural phenomena, 
as bad seasons and harvests, diseases of plants and animals, disap- 
pearance of fish, and the like, and such as are due to excessive taxa- 
tion consequent on war expenditure, all of which are local, and the 
first temporary in character — naturally group themselves about the 
one great cause that has been suggested, as sequences or derivatives, 
and as secondary rather than primary in their influence; and to the 
facts and deductions that are confirmatory of this conclusion atten- 
tion will be next invited. 

David A. Wells. 

* The average rate of exchange in Mexico on London fell from 4C to 41 per dollar in 
the early months of 1885 to 38 to 36 in the spring of 18S6. 



I P the last nine months cannot be said to I'.ave produced any book that 
is likely to put its mark upon the year, they show great activity in 
most departments, and a large amount of useful and high-class work. 
This activity is observable in the pages of Mind quite as much as in any 
of the separate treatises produced. No student of psychology will 
neglect, for example, the interesting and instructive controversy (if it 
may be so called) carried on in that journal during the past twelve 
months between Mr. P. H. Bradley, Mr. James Ward, and Professor 
Bain, on the nature of attention as an activity of thought, the scope 
and meaning of association, and kindred topics, which affect the very 
basis of psychological science. And the same may be said of the valuable 
series of articles on “ The Perception of Space,” contributed to this 
year’s numbers of Mind by Professor James of Harvard. But ♦America 
is no longer going to be content with Mind as an outlet for its psycho- 
logical work: we are soqn to have the A mn'irft.n Joinnml of Ptiycholojy, 
edited by Prof. Stanley nail, of the Johns Hopkins University. Indeed, 
the devotion with which the Americans have thrown themselves into 
scientific psychology is one of the noticeable facts of the present time. 
It is to be hoped that, while maintaining its scientific character, the new 
journal will not deliver itself, bound hand and foot, into the hands of 
the psycho-physicists, to whose experiments and measurements it is the 
fashion at present to attribute an \induc importance. Professor Dewey^s 
" Psychology,” * following so closely upon Professor Clark Murray’s 
"Handbook,^^ noticed in a former Record, and the Elements of Physio- 
logical Psychology,” t jtist issued by Professor Ladd of Yale, are 
additional evidences of the activity referred to. Professor Ladd has also 
completed the work of translating Lotzo^s “ Dictate/’ or lecture para- 
graphs. These succinct Outlines,! embracing “ Metaphysic,” '‘Philoso- 
phy of Religion,” " Practical Philosophy,” “ Psychology,” “ .dSsthetics,” 
and “ Logic,” handsomely got up, and obtainable in this country from 
Triibner & Co., cannot fail to be of real service to English students. 
From America comes also the first volume of an undertaking which will 
be welcomed by a large circle of philosophic readers — a translation of 
Kuno Fischer^s comprehensive History of Modern Philosophy.” 
Fischer is always lucid and vigorous — popular, as the editor says, in the 
best sense of that term — and his biographical and historical matter 
cannot be too highly praised. The first volume, on “ Descartes and his 
School,” § excellently translated and got up, embraces 100 pp. of general 

* “Psychology. ’ By .John Dewey, Pli.D,, Assistant Professor of PRilosophy in 
Michigan University. New York ; Harper & Brothers. 

f “Elements of Physiological Psycliolo-y.” By (;corge T. Ladd, Professor of 
Philosophy in Yale University. London : LciOgmans, Green & Co. 1887. 

4; Boston: Ginn A Co. 1886-7. 

§ “ Histoiy of Modern Philosojdiy/' By Kuno Fischer. Descartes and his School.*' 
Translated from the third and revised (ierinan edition by J. P. Gordy, Ph.D.,* Professor 
of Pedagogics in Ohio University. Edited by Noah Porter, D.D., LL.D. * London : 
T. Fisher Unwin. 1887* 



introduction or* historical review, 140 pp. of biographical and literary 
matter on Descartes, 200 pp. devoted to his doctrine, and nearly 100 pp. 
more devoted to the development of Cartesianism by the Occasionalists 
and Malebranche. This will give those unacquainted with the original 
some idea of the scale of the work. The present volume is to be followed 
by a second, dealing with Spinoza ; and it is to be hoped that the 
financial success of the enterprise will be such as to encourage the 
publisher to proceed with Iieibnitz, and the remaining volumes of the 
original history. A translation of the Leibnitz in particular would be a 
great boon to the English student of philosophy. Before leaving 
American contributions, mention must be made of Dr. McCosh^s 

Philosophic Series ” of tracts for the times, shortly noticed in previous 
Records, and now republished in two volumes,* without addition or com- 
ment, as a defence of Realistic Philosophy.” The first volume embraces 
the four Expository, and the second the four “ Historical and 
Critical” pamphlets, the latter dealing with “Locke/^ “Hume and 
Huxley,” “ The Critical Philosophy,” and “ Herbert Spencer.^^ 

Professor Dewey^s " Psychology,” mentioned in the above list, is an 
excellent treatise which calls for further notice. Its method is admir- 
able and its information full and up to date. The usefulness of the book 
is further enhanced by full bibliographical references at the end of each 
chapter. A useful innovation upon the older rubrics of Sensation and 
Perception, Memory and Imagination, Conception and Reasoning, is the 
plan (adopted both by Mr. Dewey and in Professor Clark Murray’s 
recent Handbook”) of treating the Elements of Knowledge’’ (the 
sensational data) and ‘'Processes of Knowledge” (under which Mr. 
Dewey includes apperception, association, and attention) as preparatory 
to actual mental facts — percepts, images, and concepts. Even these last, of 
course, are not to be regarded as separate, independent facts ; they are 
rather mental aspects. Mr. Dewey calls them "stages of knowledge”; 
and throughout it is one great merit of his book to bring out clearly the 
inseparability and mutual dependence of the different forms of mental 
action. The special object of the woik, as stated by the author, has 
been to combine the scientific treatment of psychology with the tradi- 
tional use of that discipline as an introduction to philosophy. In this 
different enterprise Mr. Dewey has achieved a very fair measure of 
success, though it may be doubted whether his philosophy of the 
universal Self is not too largely imported into the book, if regard be had 
to the needs and capacities of the ordinary student of psychology, who 
is ex hypothesi philosophically untrained. 

Professor Ladd s " Physiological Psychology ” is a work of very great 
labour, and one for which he is entitled to the gratitude of all sympa- 
thetic students of the science. Much has been heard for some time of 
Physiological Psychology and Psychophysics, but detailed information 
as to the aims, methods, and achievements of the new branch of inves- 
tigation has not been accessible in any English book. Professor Ladd 
has here supplied this want in very full aud competent fasliion. The 
treatise is naturally based to a considerable extent upon Wundt’s " Pliy- 
siologiscbe Psychologic,” but embraces in its survey all the important 
and most recent inonographs. It is to be noted at the same time tliat 
the author recognizes the limitations of such inquiries, and takes a sober 

* ** Realistic Fbiloscmliy defended in a Philosophic Series.*’ By James McCosli, 

D.D., LL.D., Litt.D., President of Princeton College. TwotoIs. Macmillan. 1887. 



view of the possible achievements of the "new psychology” in the 
future. The book is divided into three paris^ of which only the second 
deals with what would ordinarily be described as physiological psychology. 
The first part, dealing with " The Nervous Mechanism/^ is a somewhat 
elaborate physiological treatise ; and the third, on " The Nature of the 
Mind,” would certainly be described in many quarters as " metaphysical 
psychology,” Professor Ladd here develops a view of the ultimate 
nature of the mind, and its relation to the body, which Ijears a strong 
resemblance to that maintained by Lotze, 

Professor Max Muller s " Science of Thought " * has more of the 
personal accent in it than is usual in an abstract treatise. *'Dixi et 
salvavi animam meam,” is the expression used by the author himself in 
the preface. He endeavours here to systematize and re-inforce those 
views on the inseparability of thought and language, and the consequent 
decisive importance of the science of language for philosophy, to which 
he has repeatedly given expression elsewhere. The book contains, 
indeed, in its main contentions and strain of argument, little that will 
be absolutely new to readers of the author s Lectures on the Science of 
Language. But the discussion of logical terms and distinctions is 
amplified, and so, loo, arc the references to the statements of individual 
philosophers and to the history of philosophy generally. A chapter is 
inserted on Kant s philosophy ; and in regard to the question of the origin 
of language, so familiar to readers of the lectures, we find Professor Max 
Miiller now adopting from his friend Noire a third theory as in the main 
the true account of the subject. Whenever our senses are excited and our 
muscles hard at work, says NVire,we feel a kind of relief in uttering sounds. 
For example, " when people work it?ther, when peasants dig or thresh, 
when sailors row, when women spiiif^ndien soldiers march, they are inclined 
to accompany their actions with c>ei).ain more or less rhythmical utter- 
ances. These sounds come to be sigds of repeated acts, and being uttered 
by men as.sociated in a common work, have the advantage of being under- 

stood by all When we remind ourselves or others of these acts by 

means of the sounds which used to accompany them, the concom!^ 

tanSjVfe make our first step towards real language.” liemembering Professor 
Max Muller s own nicknames of the pooh-pooh ” and " bow-wow ” 
theories, the critics have not been slow to dub this new hypothesis the “ yo- 
heave-ho theory. The whole subject is one on which, as John of Salis- 
bury used to say, it is permitted to doubt. Professor Jlax Miiller also 
develops at considerable length his well-known criticism of Darwinism, 
based on the fact that man alone possesses language in the sense of a 
system of general signs. Much of what he says, by the way, as to the 
philosophy of evolution may be heartily assented to ; but if he admits 
that the human animal may have been “ inuto for ages,” and have 
developed from a speechless into a speaking state, 1 fail to see his 
special point against (he Darw^inian theory of development through the 
anthropoid ape or some similar creature. The human animal (^:0 called 
in a future reference) developed reason and speech ; yet Professor Max 
Muller maintains that " no one who knows the true nature of language 
conld conceive how any animal, from the lowest to the highest, could 
ever have developed speech ” (p. 158). The animal which blossomed 
into speech, and so developed into man, did so, we are told, because he 

* ^*The Science of Thought.” By Profescor Max Muller. London: LoDg;inans, 
Green & Co. 18S7. 



was " capable of becoming what he is ” — because he bad the potentiality 
of reason and speech \Hthiu him. And again we are warned that we 
must distinguish between what is not yet rational and what never can 
be rational. Surely in the case of the so-called human animal we only 
know its potential possession of these attributes because it afterwards 
developed them ; and if a variety of apes were at any future period to 
develop the same characteristics, we should be compelled to ascribe to 
them also the potentiality of reason and speech. Without, therefore, in 
the least assailing the philosophical view of evolution taken by the 
author, I ^should venture to doubt the usefulness of this particular 
polemical application. Nor, again, while admitting to the full all that 
is said by Professor Max Muller on the inseparability of concept and 
word, can I quite understand the extent of the claims which he puts 
forward for the Science of Language. Again and again we are told 
that the Science of Thought must be for the future neither more nor 
less than the Science of Language. " If we fully understood the whole 
growth of every word, philosophy would have, and could have, no longer 
any secrets. It would cease to exist” (p. 515). Unquestionably, com- 
parative philology and the palaeontology of language throw a most 
valuable light upon the work of the logician and the psychologist ; and 
the science of language may truly be said to explain and explode the 
mythology which so persistenll}’- mingles with our philosophic attempts 
to explain the universe. But I fail to see how the history of the meta- 
physical conceptions which man has employed can ipso facto determine 
the conceptions which he ought to employ. The historical method, 
here as elsewhere, can only tell us how man came to employ certain 
names in certain senses ; it cannot decide as to the truth of the names 
and the adequacy of the theory they embody. After all the negative 
service rendered by the science of language, is it not true that the task 
of philosophy remains to be performed, as before, by our best reflection 
upon all the elements of the concrete fact presented to us ? But thougli 
we may differ from Professor Max Muller on a point of principle like 
this, it need hardly be said that the book is full of interesting and 
instructive matter. The general reader will naturally turn by preference 
to the philological illustrations which, in Professor Max Miiller s hands, 
never fail to charm ; but the first cliapter, on The Constituent Elements 
of Thought,” is full of sound psycholog}’' attractively set forth ; and the 
last three chapters often throw a welcome light on logical terms and 

A second edition has appeared of Dr. Ferrier^s well-known work on 
the Functions of the Brain.** * The book, the author tells us, has been 
almost entirely re-written, and a good deal has been added ; but the 
principal doctrines formerly advocated in respect to the localization of 
cerebral functions arc maintained in all essentials unchanged.” 

Fleming's '^Vocabulary of Philosophy ”t has also undergone a 
thorough revis’ion, or rather re-consiruction, at the hands of Professor 
Calderwood, and now appears in a fourth edition. Fully one-half of the 
book is new. The result is a very great improvement on (indeed a 

• “The Fuuctions of the Brain.” By David Ferrier, M.D., LL.D., F.R.S. Second 
edition, rewritten and enWged. Smith, Elder & Co. 1886. 

f “Vocabulary of PhilosojAy, Psychological, Ethical, and Metaphysical; with 
Quotations and Keferences.*’ By William Fleming, D.D. , formerly Professor of Moral 
Phil<»ophy in the University of Glasgow. Fourth Edition. By Henry Calderwood, 
LL.D. London : Charles Griffin & Co. 1887. 
fOL. LII. X 



transformation of) a book that had become practically antiquated, 
though a still greater ruthlessness in re-construction might occasionally 
have justified itself. In its new form the Vocabulary ** will be a 
handy book of reference for the student and the extra-academic reader 
of philosophy. 

Professor Knight’s ^^Hume”* adds another volume to the all-too- 
slowly progressing series of Philosophical Classics. The story of the life, 
most skilfully and effectively told, occupies half of the volume. ^ The 
chapters on Hume’s philosophy bring into prominence Hume’s historical 
position in philosophy and the real speculative hearing of his main 
positions, most of which was all to seek in Professor Huxley’s brilliant 
but philosophically unsatisfactory sketch. Feeling, however, the limi- 
tations imposed by the series, Professor Knight has in hand a more 
comprehensive work on the same subject, in which it is satisfactory to 
see that he proposes to include consideration of the subsequent issue of 
the philosophy of Hume and the further course of speculative thought 
both in Britain and upon the Continent. 

Mr. Bosanquet’s translation of Hegel’s Introduction to his Lectures 
on .Ksthetik ” f is, as was to be expected from the editor of the 
Clarendon Press edition of Lotze, all that a translation should be. 
Hegel’s “Philosophy of Art” is in some respects the most attractive 
and suggestive of his works. By interpreting philosophical expressions, 
instead of merely furnishing their technical t<iuivalcnts, and by ex- 
planatory notes, Mr. Bosanquet has endeavoured to make the translation 
of use to those who are interested in art and the theory of art, without 
being professed students of philo‘^ophy. 

‘ Mr. Proudfoot Begg’s Development of Taste” % has evidently been 
a labour of love to the author. He traces the first impul«sc towards the 
subject to the teaching of Professor Edward Caird in Glasgow, nearly 
twenty years ago, and the book has grown out of his studies since. The 
first part is devoted to tracing the developniont of the sentiment for 
natural beauty in ancient and nuxlern times. TJiis is a subject mi which 
it v/ould be difficult to be uninteresting, and Mr. Begg seems to be, in 
general, just, though a sense of kterary proportion is curiously alisentin 
comparing, even momentarily, the “Odyssey” and Evangeline,” and in 
speaking of Lucretius as “ the 'William Black of ancient times.” What 
follows on the theory of beauty, as it used to he called, witli the refuta- 
tion of Jeffrey, Alison, and Spencer, is more diffuse, and, as is apt to 
be the case with the abstract theory of sesthelics, less j)rofitable reading. 
But an exception must be made in favour of the author’s chapter on the 
Sublime. Finally, the fact of the ugly leads him to the kindred fact of 
moral evil, and he ends with a thorougldy Hegelian dcrence of optimism. 
Altogether, metaphysics predominate over SDsthclics proper in the latter 
part of the Jjook. * 

Captain McTaggart ought not to speak of Prologomena, nor should 
he discuss an emendation of Descartes’ first principle of certainty into 

* “Hume.” By William Knight, LLl)., Professor Moral Philosophy in the 
University of St, Andrew a. (Philosophical Classics for Kncjlish Readers.) W. Blackwood 
&S 0118 . 1886. 

t “The IntroducrtioD to Hegel^s Philosopliy of Fine Art.^’ Translated from the 
GemaHj with Note's and a Prefatory Essay by Bernard Bos;inquet, M.A., late Fellow 
and Tutor of University College, Oxford. Kogan Paul, I'rench & Co. 1886. 

X “ The Development of Taste, and other Studies in ASst^etics.** By W. Proudfoot 
Begg. Glasgow : Maclehose & Sons. 1887. 



Cogito ergo cognodco sum : I think ; therefore I know that I am.” 
But in spite of such extravagances there is much in the criticism to 
which he subjects Materialism and Idealism that displays considerable 
acuteness and philosophical insight. The present volume * is intended 
to be only the first of a series. The author’s system of Absolute 
^lativism,” therefore, cannot yet be fairly judged ; but it seems a pity 
if his criticisms, which are^often much to the point, are to lead him only 
to barren conclusion of an unknowable x, or the potentialities of 
infinite activitv manifested as stimulus and response to stimulus 
(p.127). * 

The ** Natural History of Though t,^^ t as the full title indicates, has 
throughout a practical or educational aim in view. It is the parent 
intent upon the education of his child not the philosopher or scientific 
psychologist for whom the author writes, and he does not pretend to 
scientific exactness. When this is said, it may be added that the book 
is well-informed and pleasantly written, and is marked both by good 
sense and good feeling. 

If the author of “ Scottish Metaphysics Reconstructed ” I desires his 
views to become known and to exert an influence upon current thought, 
he ought by all means to disentangle them from the abrupt and somewhat 
erratic commentary on Hamilton’s positions in which they are here 
embedded. The author’s triads of “objective universals,” ^'space,time, and 
lorce,” “ intelligence, goodness, and causation,” have little in common 
with any “ Scottish ^Metaphysics” of the past, and stand in need of 
fuller exposition and justification than they here receive. 

The second part of the “ Principles of Morals,” § begun by Professor 
Powler in conjunction with the late Professor Wilson, has been com- 
pleted, and i^^ vouched for by Professor Fowler alone. The standpoint 
occupied is concisely set forth in the preface ; “ Our moral sentiments 
and moral ideas, as they exist at present, are not incapable of analysis 
or explanation ; they are the result of the constant interaction of the 
primary feelings (d‘ our nature, co-ordinated and directed by the reason, 
and moulded hy the peculiar circumstances, physical and social, in which 
each inflividual man, each race of men, and mankind at large, have been 
placed.” The lirst half of the I)ook, accordingly, is occupied with an 
account of the many-coloured skein of primary feelings out of which 
the conscience or moral sense is woven — the self- regarding, sympathetic, 
resentful, and semi-sociftl feelings. The method adopted is partly that 
of description and definition (as in the older text-books), and partly his- 
torical, making use of anthropological results. Our feelings of moral 
approbation and disapprobation are then explained as reflex feelings of 
satisfaction due to the gratification of some of these primary feelings of 
our nature. The objects of our moral approval are said lo be ‘^all those 
actions in which a man subordinates his own lower to his higher good, 
or his own good to the greater good of others, or, when the interests 
only of others arc at stake, the lesser good of some to the greater good 

♦ “ Absolute Relativism ; or, the Absolute iu Relation.** By W. B. McTitggart, late 
Captain 1 4th Hussars. London : W. Stewart & Co. 

t “ The Natural History of Thought in its Piactical Aspect, from its Origin iii Infancy.’* 
By George Wall, F.L.8, Trubner & Co. 1887. 

t “ Scottish Metaphysics Reconstructed.” By the writer of “Free Notes on Herbert 
Spencer's First rrinciplea.” W. Blackwood & Sons. 1887. 

§ “ The Principles of Morals.*' Part 11. Being the body of the work. By Thomas 
Fowler, D.D., President of Corpus Ohristi College ; Wykeham Professor of Logic in 
the University of Oxfosil. Clarendon Press. 1887. 



of others/^ Professor Fowter the yaguen^ of the terms “ higher 

and lower good/^ greateirand^tt^ good;*' and falls back in the context of 
this passage upon their piMtiw dearness. He afterwi|rds offers a defi- 
nition of what he understands by the terms : Confining ourselves to the 
good of an organic being, the simplest account seems to be that the 
good of any part of it is the satidaction or development of that part, 
and the good of the whole, the development of its entire nature, 
or the attainment of that end or those ends for which it ian natu- 
rally fitted. .... The good of man may be conceived ^ as the develop- 
ment of the various parts of his nature in harmony with one another, 
and with the social and material medium in which he exists.” Vhi^ is a 
broad statement, however, which might be adopted both by a Hegelian 
and a Spencerian evolutionist. Professor Fowler \YOuld probably not 
object to have his own point of view described as a humane and en- 
lightened Utilitarianism, and he apparently uses the terms good, welfare, 
happiness, and pleasure as interchangeable ; but by introducing the 
notion of a natural end, and by admitting a distinction of quality in 
pleasures, he imports elements which, as Professor Sidgwick has shown, 
are inconsistent with a purely hedonistic theory. The gain in breadth 
and general acceptability is thus compensated for by a want of definite- 
ness, and it might have been well, in a treatise of this size, if more 
space had been devoted to endeavouring to determine what is man’s 
chief good or ultimate end of action, which is properly the fundamental 
question of ethics regarded as a department of philosophy. In all the 
more practical topics Professor Fowlers mode of handling his subject 
is a model of clearness of style and moderation of temper. Lucid and 
straightforward common-sense is a distinguishing characteristic of the 
whole book. 

One of the most interesting of recent books connected with philosoj>hy 
is the collection of Hegel’s letters edited by bis son, Professor Karl 
Hegel of "Erlangen — ^'Briefe von iind an Hegel.” The new 
volume, in two parts (really two volumes), is to form the nineteenth or 
last volume of the new edition of the complete works issued by Duncker 
and Humblot in Leipzig. This re-issue j^oints to the renewed Study of 
Hegel in Germany, of wdiich there are indications in other quarters ; for 
example, in the preface to Wundt s recent treatise on Ethics, In draw- 
ing attention to the coincidence in certain fundamental conceptions 
between his own views of ethics, and those t&ken by the speculative 
Idealism of Fichte and Hegel, Wundt there prophesies a similar return 
upon the past in other spheres — a return, not upon the details of past 
systems, but upon thein dominant though imperfectly executed aims and 
conceptions. This I’resii eoliectioii of Hegel’s letters far more than 
doubles the number of those that have seen the light before in Bosen- 
kranz s Life or in the Vermischtc Schriften,” and brings us appreci- 
ably nearer to the mao, his character and opinions. The letters have 
been edited with the utmost care by Dr. Karl Hegel, and to have them 
brought together in this way, in chronological order, with the letters of 
Hegel’s correspondents to which they refer, is a real boon. 

^ Andrew Seth. 

* Briefe von nnd an Hegel.” Heransgegeben von Karl H«gsl* In zwei Theilen. 
Erster Theii ; mit einem Portrat Hegera. Zweiter Theil; mit einem Facsimile HegePs. 
Leipzig : Bnncker & Humblot. 1887. « 

A SCHEME of self-government for Ireland, manifestly just and 
adequate, and at the same time acceptable to the whole nation, 
is still to be sought. Between 1812 and 1866 a succession of tenta- 
tive proposals on the subject w’as made by men of notable, ability. 
O’Connell, Sharmaii Crawford, Smith O’Brien, Gray Porter, J. G. 
MacCarthy, Isaac Butt, and others less widely known, sketched from 
time to time the ground plan at least of an Irish Constitution, but 
none of these proposals has kept possession of the public mind. In 
latter times eminent Englishmen, Mr. Frederic Harrison, Mr. Cham- 
berlain, and Professor Freeman, amongst others. Lave attempted the 
same task with only limited success. It is a much more serious 
embarrassment, however, that the elaborate and ingenious scheme for- 
mulated in Mr. Gladstone's recent Bills has not altogether satisfied 
the friends of Home Rule either in England or Ireland. He has 
indeed specified guiding principles which must always be kept in 
view hereafter — the rights of the Crown, the interest of minorities,, 
and the control of the Imperial Parliament over Imperial interests 
must be effectually secured — but the special machinery which he pro- 
vided for accomplishing these and other essential ends is no longer 
insisted upon ; and friendly and unfriendly critics have been 
invited by Mr. Gladstone and his colleagues to suggest a better 
if they can.* 

* The abandonment of the original measure is complete. At Edinburgh, before the 
Oeneral Election, Mr. Gladstone said : — ** I stated in tUo most distinct mauner tliat 
there was no part of it which Parliament would not be perfectly free to change. T went 
further, and said that if the change were comi>atible with the principle, and calculated 
to forward the application of the principle, better than the provision embodied in tlu- 
Bill, we would welcome and accept that change.” Since the election, in the same place, 
ho has said : — ** 1 promise in the name of my colleagues that we will cast over onr own 
Bill to the winds the moment it isahown us that a better plan for giving edcct to our 




We must therefore anew^ but with the mmense 

advantage that ^ country and left 

permanent landmarka^^^^^B^fc^;,j^.' 

The Irish people % the courage and prompti- 

tude of Mr. 61adston0^i^|i|j^|^«^t they would have accepted his 
Bill for the Better Govroimeni of Ireland almost without scrutiny ; 
though the more thoughtM w&sd alarna^d by a parliamentary pro- 
cedure for which there was no precedent^ and which was certain to 
embarrass" a new Legislature^ and by a financial burthen which they 
believed to be beyond our strength. The delay to which we have 
had to submit carries with [it a substantial compensation. Since 
amendments are called for^ it is our right and duty — ours first of 
all mankind — to furnish a sufficient scheme. If Irishmen cannot 
frame a constitution for their native country^ what security is there 
that they can administer effectually a constitution framed by other 
hands ? They must prove their fitness for self-government in the 
same manner that all communities of civilized men have done before 
them. In the history of constitutional liberty there is not^ so for as 
I knowj a single case where the fundamental statute was not the work 
of the people whose rights it was designed to establish. Whenever 
the necessity for a written Constitution arose in any country, repre- 
sentative men of the nation proceeded to consider the special provisions 
suitable to its character and requirements. It is needless to cite the case 
of great States — it is not possible to conceive France or Italy, or even 
Hungary or Belgium, accepting a ready-made Constitution. N6r 
did smaller communities relinquish the initiative. British colonies, 
great and small, exercised an independent judgment. Tlie farmers 
and fishermen of Prince Edward^s Island and the convict population 
of Van Diemen’s Land, equally with the intelligent and aspiring 
citizens of Canada and Australia, picked and chose for themselves, 
and their choice when made was confirmed by an Imperial Statute. 
Ireland, it is true, has no deliberative assembly to frame a Constitu- 
tion in the identical manner these kingdoms and colonies adopted ; 
but the method is of slight importance if the essential agency and 
initiative of the nation be maintained. A Royal Commission, sitting 
successively in Dublin, Belfast, and Cork, might have asceitained the 
will of the people with sufficient certainty. Capable and experienced 

views can pnxluced, and the moment it is shown to us that the new plan is not an 
evasion of the subject and is not an artful machinery devised for the purpose of de&aud- 
ins the Irish people out of their homes and their just rights.” 

Mr. Campbell Bannerman went still further, and represonteil the Government them 
selves as prepared to frame their proposal anew, *'Thc Bill/' he said, **ia^no longer 
before the conntiy, and her Majesty's UovernmeDt, if called upon to deal wi^ the 
bneetion, will have perfect freedom in determining the particular methodJw wluch they 
sbonld seek the attainment of the main object of tlieir policy." ^ 

Mr. BCorley, at Harwich, invited amendments and promised them ft frtOltdl^ Meeption. 
Whatever modification our plan is capable of without impairing the 
modtfiestioii will not find in ns, or in any of those who adhere to ne, eny resistance ; 
bttt, <m the contraiy, wUl find support." Later speeches aie of the same ehemeter. 



Irishmen, wherever they exist in the world, would have rejoiced to 
appear before it, and a body of &Gts and opinion might have been 
accumulated on which statesmen ocmld safely act. l^e omission was 
so obvious that it was more than once suggested in the House of 
Commons that a Select Committee should be appointed to examine 
witnesses and ddiberate on the precise nature and powers of the 
legislative body to be established in Ireland. On one of these 
occasions Mr. Morley, then Chief Secretary, replied that j;he fittest 
Committee to conduct such an inquiry was the Cabinet. In ordinary 
cases this proposition could hardly be disputed, but when the question 
concerns the interest of four or five millions of Irish CathoMcs, and 
the Cabinet is an institution in which an Irish Catholic never has 
had a seat from the era when it was invented two centuries ago down 
to this day, the expediency of the method is not quite so clear. To 
my thinking, a Cabinet of the Opposition can no more perform this 
essential work than a Cabinet of the Executive, if it be composed of 
the same materials. Some months before the General Election of 
1885, in an appeal to the Conservative party, I ventured to affirm 
that half a dozen men seated round a table, empowered to draw 
the heads of an Irish Constitution, would have no difficulty in pro- 
viding adequate guarantees (for the Irish minority), adequate gua- 
^rantees being a sine qua non”^ But the men I had in view were 
three Irish Conservatives and three Irish Nationalists, with Lord 
Carnarvon or Mr. !Morley in the chair as umpire. I was far from 
supposing that the Round Table, when it came, would be occupied 
exclusively by eminent Englishmen, sitting sublimely apart from the 
people whose destiny was in question, like a congress of the Great 
Powers delivering orders to Bulgaria. It is not by abandoning 
the initiative in their own affairs that any nation has won freedom, 
or learned the duties and obligations which freedom imposes. To 
be worthy of their destiny the nation to be enfranchised must be 
active and sympathetic partners in whatever is clone to establish and 
regulate their liberties. If they themselves cannot do this work it 
will never be effectually or permanently done : 

* * A nation freed by foreign aid 

Is but a corpse by u'anton science 
Convulsed like life, then tiling to fade, 

The life itself is self-reliance.*' 

There is happily a simple and rudimentary method of inquiry, not 
needing a Royal Commission, a Select Committee, or any other 
external agency, which has proved of solid value in similar eases. In 
the United JItates, where the founders of the Republic proceeded with 
exemplary caution, the principles at issue in a Federal Union, and 
the methods by which they could be most effectually expressed in 

* National Review, Feb. 1885 . 



action, were carefully debated in tbe press, by men who had examined 
all the diSBculties of Ihe b^ore they were adopted by the 

Legislature. It was by ccrntrorm^iy^inthe Federalist, much metre than 
by debates in Congress^ that Hamilton and Madison laid the bases of 
a Constitution which has resisted the strain of a hundred years. 

Persons for whose judgment and experience I ha^e great respect 
think that this method might be employed ^in Ireland with advantage, 
and, as so]|pe one must begin, I have undertaken to do so. I would 
willingly set an example to better men ; for I am persuaded that if 
they apply themselves soberly to the inquiry how the rights of the 
whole lieish nation can be made secure and permanent in a native 
Parliament, with the same serious purpose which animated Hamilton 
and his friends, they will not labour in vain. And in the process of 
debate the bulk of the people will be made familiar with fundamental 
truths which are essential to their prosperity as a nation, and 
essential even to the success of their efforts to be speedily recognized 
as a nation. 

I will presently submit for consideration and controversy^ plan of 
an Irish Constitution which I have long had in my mind. It will 
help the reader to determine how far it is likely to answer its purpose 
if 1 state at the outset the precise ends it is designed to accomplish. 

I desire in simple good faith, without any arrihe pensee, to content ♦ 
my Protestant fellow-countrymen, by making religious liberty, private 
property, the administration of justice, and the peace of a mixed com- 
munity as safe in Ireland as they are anywhere under the sky; to 
make tbe substitution of a Celtic or Catholic ascendancy for tlu^ 
Protestant ascendancy, which has been happily overthrown, impossible; 
to create a native Legislature in which the whole nation shall be 
adequately represented, where the experience and discipline of the 
better trained minority may unite with the j)assionate desire of the 
majority (in whom suffering has been the nurse of patriotism) to 
raise up their country anew. I desire, toto corde, to secure not the 
triumph of one party over another, but the unity and peace of the 
entire people of our island. Without peace at home national pro- 
sperity is impossible, whatever institutions we may create ; and the 
primary condition of national peace is that wc shall recognize the 
fact that the Irish nation is not homogeneous but heterogeneous ; 
that it ir composed of various races, creeds, and interests, eacb of» 
which has an absolutely equal claim to the protection of the law and 
to the enjoyment of all the rights and privileges of citizens ; that 
we must constantly acknowledge and act upon the principle that in 
all public affairs, from the parish to the Parliament, it is highest 
interest of the country that the majority and the minority should be 
fully represented, and neither of them suppressed nor overborne. If 
there be men whose aim is to secure a great party triumph for 



Nationalists and a profound humiliation for Unionists, they will not 
find what they want here. I address myself only to those who would 
bring to the foundation of a new State a fixed desire to be just to all 
its citizens and interests without distinction. Nobody knows better 
than I do that Irish Catholics have a fearful past to forgive, but ^tis 
more sure than day or nijrht that it is their interest to forgive it 
frankly. Alexander Hamilton, the confidant of Washington, taught 
his new republic a profoundly wise maxim, very applicable to our 
case. Justice [he said] is the end of government and of civil 
society ; justice, not victory. Let us be ready to do justice, what- 
ever sacrifice of pride or prejudice it may entail, and we shall reap a 
sure reward. 

The Protestant minority, many of them with great interests at 
stake, require commensurate securities before they entrust them to a 
native Legislature ; and why should they not require them ? Parlia- 
mentary government is based on a system of securities ; the preroga- 
tives of t^ Crown and the powers of the Lords and the Commons 
respectiv^ are exercised under restraints created to check their 
abuse. In all the Constitutions which have established free govern- 
ment in modern times there are special guarantees for interests liable 
to be unjustly impaired. Law itself is in general a precaution not so 
much against probable as against possible wrongs ; a ward is pro- 
tected against the fraud or ladies of his guardian, and an inheritor in 
remainder against that of his father, as strictly as a householder 
against a housebreaker. What the case calls for, therefore, is not a 
sentimental but a statutory warranty ; not appeals to the past con- 
duct of Irish Catholics, as forming suflBcient security, however 
generous and magnanimous that conduct may have been, but 
guarantees, which will be recognized as solid and adequate, against the 
jKissibility of reprisal for past wrongs, or any exceptional legislation 

The only method of protecting the minority hitherto proposed has 
been to limit the functions of the new Legislature and Executive ; 
either to retain them in leading-strings or to withhold from them the 
ordinary agents for executing their orders ; in short, to make them 
poweidess to do much good in order that they may be able to do nb 
wrong. This method was not acceptable to any one in Ireland. It 
did not satisfy the minority, and it would have exasperated the new 
Legislature. Had it been adopted, the Constitution would have 
been degraded in the eyes of the people from the beginning, and 
new struggles for the rights withheld would have immediately com- 
menced. A half-measure must inevitably share the fate of all the 
half-measures and quarter-measures which have preceded it. A wiser 
and safer method of proceeding, I humbly submit, would be to create a 
Legislature and Executive which from their character might be safely 



.trotted to exercise all l^e powm wbich the ^AnstraUao tod Cantdiao 
Parliaments enjoy. If this con be done it oroold masilestly furnish 
a perfect^ and perhaps the only perfect, guarantee. CSommit your 
interests, not to an agent who Is handcuffed, and undar sunreillaace, 
but to one in whom you are able to place liberal confidence.. Create 
a Parliament and Goyemment which you^can trust, and trust them 
accordingly.. The fundamental security for sober, ordered liberty 
must resi^ in the character of the Legislature. It is idle to look 
for it anywhere else. And this safest and best method is also the 
simplest in form and probably the easiest to attain. The bulk of the 
nation would view with natural displeasure any sacrifice of their 
rights made to pamper the prejudice or personal caprice of English 
politicians, but they will be ready, I am persuaded, to make ample 
concessions to placate and content their own countrymen. 

I will speak presently of the method by which such a Parliament 
may be created ; but first let me glance for a moment at the duty it 
wiU have to undertake : for the nature of an instrun^t or an 
institution must be largely determined by the work it is cmkgned to 
perform. For what work do we want a native Parliament ? Is it 
not chiefly to restore social peace, and the prosperity which can only 
flow from peace, to a distracted country ? Ireland presents a spectacle 
without parallel among Christian nations : its population— -larger 
when any man amongst us was born than it is to-day — has dwindled 
year by year for more than thirty years ; its ancient manufactures 
have disappeared ; its foreign commerce, once considerable, is almost 
annihilated : the bulk of the population is pauperized and de- 
moralized by a constant struggle for existence against uigust laws 
and pitiless authority. The produce of the island is carried away 
by absentees, and by fiscal exactions which have constantly increased 
while the wealth of the country diminished. The seed of the future 
— ^its young men and women — have been flying to foreign countries 
longer than the existing generation can remember, because they have 
no career or pursuit at home. We should be mad to make the Par- 
liament of such a country a cockpit to fight out hereditary quarrels, 
or a platform for political gladiators to contend for the spoils of 
office. The task to which Irish statesmen must give their wholejuind 
and heart is to guide the reawakened spirit of the country tp fb® 
reproductive enterprises by which poor communities beebme pros* 
perous, and to foster them by the security and confidence which 
sjning from just laws justly administered. It will be thdr dn^ to 
reorganize the higher education, that it may teach the people prac- 
tical truths more important to their interests than any tH ie found 
in Adam Smith or the Beady Beckoner : how natimm prosp^ by 
and miftoal goodwill ; how wise it is to tm power justly 
naoA iiK^rately, and that policies and passions, natnnd in a time of 



'Conflict, would be sbai^eful in a time of peace; "how prosperity can 
only exist under the shelter of settled law ; and that you would as vainly 
try to grow com on a rock as commerce and manu&ctures in a 
Country where credit was not strong — credit being the offspring of 
confidence in the security of property, whether it be derived from 
the earnings of the artisan or the capital of the manufacturer or the 
landowner. ^ 

Let us revert to the question how such a Parliament ought to be 
constituted, that it may represent the entire nation in an adequate 

It is scarcely necessary to contend that it ought to consist of two 
Chambers ; for we have no experience, and no one has any experience, 
of any other method pf conducting Responsible Government. The 
plan in Mr. Gladstone's Bill of the two Houses or Orders, as they 
were named, sitting habitually together, with the power of separating 
and sitting apart in certain contingencies, was abandoned almost at 
the outset by the Attorney-General.* A singile Chamber has been 
pictured as a peculiarly democratic instrument. But there are three 
great democratic States in the world, and their record is that two of 
them tried the unicameral system, and after a little abandoned it as 
dangerous and vicious, while the other would never consent to try it. 
A Legislature of one Chamber managed the affairs of the T'^nited 
States at the outset ; but it proved so inconvenient that Washington 
and his associates hastened to replace it by a Congress of two separate 
and independent Houses. The first French Republic began in the 
same manner, and the Convention fell completely under the con- 
trol of a jealous demagogue, who ruled it by sheer terror, till every 
head above or on a level with his own disappeared in the sawdust 
of the guillotine basket. Warned by its fate, Gambetta and the 
founders of the existing republic created a Senate and a Chamber of 
Deputies. These are warnings which we cannot afford to disregard ; 
and we are left in no doubt as to the motive of the change from one 
to two Chambers. The most eminent commentator on the American 
Constitution f says that the change was effected to create a check 
upon hasty or oppressive legislation, and upon the tendency of public 
bodies to accnmullte all power and influence in their own hands, j; 


* ** With reference to the proposal for having two orders in the Irish Parliament, I 
do not defend that as a very symmetrical or logical arrangemeut, but I look upon it as 
an arrangement not suggested by the judgment of the Prime Minister, but rather pro- 
posed as a concession to the fears, wluch 1 believe to be ill-founded, il lion, members 
which have found expression in this House.”— iSir Charles Eussell, Attoruoy-General, 
House of Commons, May 2S, 1885. t Story. 

t The same eminent commentator on the Constitution of the United States says : — > 
**There are particular momente in public aflairs when the people, stimulated by some 
irregulur passion, or some illicit advantage, or milled by the ar^gl misropresentation of 
aitfnl aieii, may call for measures which they themselves willwiterwaras be tlie most 
ready to lament and condemn. In those critical moments how salutary will be the 
intenerenoe of a body of respectable citizens, chosen withont reference to the excitmg 



And an experienced French statesman descdlm the evik which are 
inseparable from the experiment made under the First B^ubltc. If 
the interest of stability and conseiratiop are committed wholly to 
the chances of the composition of a single elective chamber^ invested 
with the sole and final decision of all questions, and to the chances 
of the discussions in that Assembly^ be aspred that, sooner or later, 
after numerous oscillations between tyranny of different %ind8j these 
interests will be sacrificed and lost/' 

It is needless to go back to the experiences of the Long Parlia- 
ment in England — even Cromwell was obliged to replace it by two 
Houses — or of the corrupt Parliaments of Scotland : it is enough that 
the experiment has never been successful. It is true, I believe, that 
some adventurous English Radicals are not ^eterred by these grave 
warnings from desiring a single Chamber in Westminster ; but let 
them propound their scheme to their own country. Home Rule in 
Ireland is surrounded by too many difficnlties already to embarrass 
it with hazardous experiments in speculative philosophy — if^ indeed, 
there be any ground mr speculation. For my part, in a long public 
life I have never met a man trained in the working of the parlia- 
mentary system who believed that a single chamber would secure 
habitual fair play to minorities, aud therefore I am against the 
unicameral method. 

Starting from the postulate of two Houses, the constitution of the 
popular Chamber is the most critical question. Tlie existing system 
of Parliamentary Government, as it has been twice modified in the 
direction of Democracy in the reign of Queen Victoria, makes the 
authority of that Chamber supreme in the last resort. W'hoever 
would establish a just Constitution, therefore, must make sure that 
the entire natiou is adequately represented in that Chamber. Unless 
both majority and minority have the proportion of political power to 
which they are entitled, neither contentment nor fair play can be 
ensured. I know of no method by which this distribution can be 
made certain except by adopting the system known as ^ the repre- 
sentation of minorities. The omission of tliat practice from the 
recent Reform Act has wrought injustice in so many English counties 
and cities that it will force itself on public attention anew. It 
ought not to be forgotten that its rejection was imposed oug^he 
Liberal party as an article of faith by Mr. Bright. Nothing was to 
be permitted to interfere with the divine right of the majority to rule. 
Eldon or Percival did not deny the claims of the majority of the 
nation to be fully represented in Parliament two gcnm'$tio|ls ago 
More peremptorily than Mr. Bright denied the claims of the usmority 

cam^ io check the iiii||&id6d career of public opinion, auJ to auspeadl ths blew until 
reaaoa, justice^ and trifll can regain their authority over the publio mittdi/' If these 
reasoM we^^ed with a people trained in local government, they are still more applicable 
to a peojde who have lost its practice and tradition by long diause. 



half a dozen years ago. Like Bousseau^ who contended that if a 
community were divided into a party of 600,000 men plus one, 
and a party of 500,000 men minus one, the former were entitled 
to the unrestricted rale of the whole, Mr. Bright worships the 
majority. But it cannot have failed to shake the authority of 
his doctrine with thoughtful men that, when it was proposed to 
apply it to Ireland, he forgot the passive submission to majorities 
which he had taught before. He rebelled against the decisive 
majority of the Liberal party on the Irish question, and he 
declaims with great ^hemence against the calamity of a majority 
ruling in Ireland to the certain prejudice, as he conceives, of the 
minority. I do not complain of his solicitude for the minority : he 
cannot desire to protect them more heartily than I do ; but the 
principles of justice do not vary with latitude and longitude, nor 
can what is right in Middlesex become wrong in Munster. For 
myself, in Ireland thirty years ago, in Australia twenty-five years 
ago, and at home when the last Reform Bill was under consideration, 
1 equally contended for the direct representation of minorities as just 
and reasonable. The principle is so intrinsically fair that, apart 
from Mr. Bright, it has been resisted chiefly on the ground that it 
is too complicated for popular use. This objection may or may not 
be well-founded as against Mr. Harems theorem ; but it has no force 
against three-cornered constituencies. There the principle and 
practice are easily intelligible ; they have been tried, and they secure 
as near an approximation to fair play as we can reasonably look for 
in sublunary affairs. 

Ireland might be divided intc^ thirty- five constituencies, each 
electing three members on tlie presenr. franchise, of whom no elector 
could vote for more than two. I need not stop to specify the con- 
stituencies ; they would necessarily be based on population, and have 
their centre in the great towns as at present. Even Dublin 
University might be retained as one of them by enlarging the con- 
stituency to a number that would admit of three members. The 
graduates of the Royal University, all the members of the learned 
professions, wherever their diplomas were obtained, with engineers 
and classified teachers added, would furnish the necessary minimum. 
The five-and-thirty constituencies would give a House of 105 mem- 
bers — ^a convenient number for a working legislature. We are 
accustomed to regard 300 as the proper number for a House of 
Common^ in Ireland, because it was the number of old. But 
that maximum was not selected for our convenience or advantage, 
but for the convenience of our rulers. James I., for example, added 
forty boroughs in one day, with the unconcealed purpose of swamping 
the representatives of the nation. I do%ot think we have any 
inducement to follow servilely the political geography of the second 



Solmnoa;^^ and that we should rather conridar what may he con- 
venient and useM at present than what existcNi at any fi;>rQier period. 
ISie question of convaaience cannot safely be disregarded. In 
addition to the Legislative Assembly or House of Commonf^ we shall 
need to find Senators, and probably 105 members to send to West- 
minster, and these demands may easily e^eed our supply. Under 
Mr. Gladstones Bill, with the 24th Clause omitted, they would 
amount to 410. But if this difSculty did not exist, the limit of a 
hundred members has proved in practice more convenient for the 
transaction of business than two or three hundred. In modem Con- 
stitutions this fact has been universally recognized. The supreme 
Legislature of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, with a population larger 
than that of the United Kingdom, consists of 120 members. In 
Belgium, with a population like our own, the Senate consists of fifty- 
eight members, and the Chamber of Deputies of 116. Holland a little 
less populous than Belgium, has only eighty members in the popular 
Chamber, and thirty-nine in the Senate. In Portugal, with four 
millions of .people, the Chamber of Deputies {Camera dos Deputados) 
is one member short of a hundred, the Senate {Camera dos PareB), 
which is hereditary, being more numerous by forty. In Switzerland, 
with the care of two-and-twenty cantons, inhabited by races more 
divided by blood, language, and religion thau Ulster and Munster, 
the Senate consists of forty-four members, the Lower House of 178 ; 
and in Denmark the numbers are sixty-six and 101 respectively. 
The British Colonies all follow the same rule of convenience. In 
the' Dominion m Canada, the local Legislatures in the respective 
provinces v^ from twelve to sixty-five in the Up^r Chamber, and 
from thi]:ty to eighty-eight in the Lower; while in the Dominion 
Parliament, controlling a territory thirty times larger than the ^tent 
of the United Kingdom, the Senate consists of seventy-two^ the 
House of Commons of 181. In Victoria, the most populous and 
energetic of the Australian colonies, the number of members in both 
Houses (which has been twice increased with increasing population 
and duties) only reaches forty-two members in the Upper House and 
eighty-six in the Lower. In the mother colony of New South 
Wales, the parent of the Australian group, the Senate consiats of 
fifty-eight members, and the Assembly of 113; while in South 
Australia they are only eighteen and forty-six respectively* In the 
South African colonics the numbers range equally low ; in the Cape 
colony, the principal African possession, divided between l^ptona^nd 
JBoen as Ireland is between Saxons and Celts, they are turenty-one 
ytid ^tyHiix. It is scarcely necessary to push the inquiijf #iarther. 
'The practice of modern States is to limit the Legislative to the 
number of men tbit cair^e spared for the duty and are sufficient to 
perform it satisfactorily. 

In such an assembly the section at present alarmed by Home 



Rule might, through the representation of minorities, count upon 
electing one-third of, the members, the other two-thirds going to the 
Nationalists. But the National party, as Mr. Parnell reminded 
the House of Commons,'^ includes various sections, all of which would 
be represented in a najfcive Parliament. Some are moderate by 
character and habit of s^^ind ; many desire an Irish Parliament, not to 
promote any party triumph, but to restore prosperity and tranquillity 
to the whole country. Nationalists of good sense and great experi- 
ence, quite unfit to be members of a combative party in Westminster, 
will be of infinite use when we can return to ttie path of peace and 
social progress. It is not too much to expect that all Ireland would 
elect eighteen members of this disposition ; and, if it did, a balance 
of parties would exist most favourable to the working of Responsible 
Government. The old Nationalists would be in a majority, and rightly 
so, but only so long as they acted with justice and prudence. A 
Parliament so constituted would be best, not only for the interest of 
the minority, but for the interest of the nation. It is impossible to 
work Parliamentary Government unless the difference of opinion 
which exists in every community be represented in the Legislature, so 
that men in power may have reason to apprehend prompt displace- 
ment if they violate their duty. The discipline fit for a time of war 
is generally wholly unfit for a time of peace. If the Irish Parliament, 
to take an example familiar to us all, consisted, like the Irish party, 
of a number of men following one leader submissively, voting 
habitually together on all questions as the majority bad previously 
determined, however upright their motives might be, Parliamentary 
Government — the most perfect system of liberty that exists in the 
world — would be at an end, for Parliamentary Government requires 
as the first condition of its existence a party in oflSce and an alterna- 
tive party prepared to take office, and not forbidden to* obtain it. 
To weigh accurately there must be weight in both scales. The highest 
result an Irish patriot could desire in an Irish Parliament is a state 
of parties where neither would be denied the opportunity of govern- 
ing in turn. The main purpose for which a House of Commons 
exists is to superintend and control the Executive Government. 
When the bribery of Walpole or Pelham filled the English House 
with the creatures of the Minister, that purpose was not answered, 
and Parliamentary Government did not exist. There was a corrupt 
faction who voted as they were ordered by the Court, ah angry middle- 
class, and a discontented people. Since Responsible Government has 
come into operation such a sight has not been seen. In the first 
House dected under the Reform Act of 1832, the Liberal majority 
was overwhelming, but Peel began immediately to create the Con- 

* *‘ 0 f 0011X86 there are eections amoog Irish Nationalists as there are sections in 
the sreat Conservative party.” (Speech on Uie second reading of the GovernmeBt of 




semtive party, wh(^j^ finally led to power. In the first House 
elected under Hisra^ii^g Reform Act, the Opposition, though greatly 
outnumbere , ^cte<^ confident that their time 

o power ^ return. Had that hope been denied to either of 

Responsible Government would have disappeared. If 
ese e ^fubstantial reasons for desiring e House in which the 
fully represented, a higher reason is that justice requires 
it , an JJigtice is the only price at which national peace can be pur- 


. minority would detest a Parliament, which, instead of 

cing ^^tional in the truest sense, would be monopolized by one 
^ction^f the nation ; and who can wonder or blame them ? Wolfe 
onCj^Loj-j Edward, John Keogh, and the Nationalists of their day 
® ®*^d Grattan^s Parliament for the same reason. And in the 
Brattan himself detested it, so natural is it to revolt against 
^^■^olay. The contention of the Irish people by their most trusted 
spo been that political power does not belong to a 

but is the common property of the entire nation.* It does 
A “long fo the greater section more than to the smaller, but to 
^6. Whenever it becomes necessary to apply this principle in 
^^^^on there is no people more disposed to take a generous view of 
J^ir duties than ours. There is not among mankind, I believe, a 
^ore placable race or one more ready to forget and forgive when the 
^ht is over. If the rancour of the past survive the cause from 
^hich it springs, it will not be the fault of the men who wield the 
"made or the hammer. 

\ If the Senate consisted of fifty-four members this number would 

Pf^ '*5rvethe proportion that usuallv exists between the two Chambers. 
The us. 

crude on^ 

\ of a second Chamber is to arrest rash proposals, and to revise 
Whenever a Senate has consisted of men guarding their 

own class ^^^rests from scrutiny it has had little or no moral authority, 
and its very existence has been constantly menaced. Whenever it 
has represente,| integrity and experience of the community it has 
been strong ano serviceable. A Senate ought to be the embodied 
conscience of the Ration, to which an appeal might be safely made 
to determine whetn^ ^ disputed measure was intrinsicHlIy just and 
for the permanent of the country. It ought to consist of 

men whose chYactcr\jk^ ability justified such a trust, and whose 
ju ^ent won carry people. Its authority ought 

to be like that of the discrau\h.,,d ^ household, who never inter- 
feres except to forbid or co.eitcv 

latent i^wer is a warranty againsx Legislation is the 

process by which weak communities ^ 

prosperous, and discontented ones ^ 

^ ^ ^ ^PPVj so far as it is given to a 

* “lam one of thofie who have alw'aya insisted * * j. 

shonld be given to the Protestant minority in a due proportion of repre^tatiyes 

would tend to prevent rash, hasty, ill-considered, \ ?*V! ®veryUiinff else ^o 
welcome." — Mr. Parnell, in the Bi>eech already citeo f®'’^l'^tionary legislation I cordially 



State to effect these ends; and the responsibilitj which it imposes 
is plainly one for the best men to exercise. How to make sure 
that we shall have the assistance of such men in the Senate is a grave 
problem. To obtain them by a property qualification ia hopeless ; w6 
know from the past practice of the House of Commons that a 
qualification ii easily fabricated^ and if it were marie impossible to 
fabricate it we should only have the spokesmen of a single interest 
in the Upper Chamber instead of the picked intellect and integrity 
of the whole nation. To obtain the right men by a contest at the poll- 
ing booths cannot be pronounced impossible, but it is a highly hazard- 
ous and uncertain method. The constituencies are the best judges 
of candidates to represent their convictions and wishes in the popular 
Chamber, but when the question is to select experts for a special 
duty the general consent of the nation is a better security than 
the opinion of individual constituencies. 

My proposal is that the Irish Senate shall consist of fifty-four 
members selected fairly from the four provinces, and that to ensure 
our getting the best men at the outset they shall be nominated in the 
Constitution Act. A list which has undergone the scrutiny of the 
pcojdc, the press, and the Irish members in the House of Commons, and 
which, to answer its primary purpose, must content the judgment of 
the Irish nation, is likely to be a better one than can be got by any 
other process. It will be canvassed over and over again by the 
whole nation before it is finally adopted. 

This method, I invite the reader to note, is not strange or untried; 
— very much the contrary. Nomination, and not election, is the 
method by which an Upper House is commonly chosen in free 
countries. Teuton, Celt, and Magyar, Catholic and Protestant, large 
and small States, have equally preferred deliberate selection to the 
hazard of the hustings. Senators are nominated in Italy, Germany, 
Austria, Hungary, Prussia, Portugal, Bavaria, and several smaller 
States; and, among British Colonies, in Canada, New Zealand, and 
New South Wales. In Victoria, where they are elected, there has been 
an intermittent struggle for five-and-twenty years by the elected Upper 
House tci exercise financial powers, which, on principle and by nearly 
universal practice, are reserved for the popular Chamber. In the 
United States the Senators are chosen by the Stiite ^Legislatures, 
which is iij effect a process of nomination. In Spain they are 
elected by an indirect suffrage, and the choice is so strictly limited 
to the governing class that nothing is gained in popular control, while 
the selection of good men outside of tlie oflBcial circle is rendered 
nearly impossible.* 

* To be Senator requires to be a Spaniard, to be forty years of age, to be in possession 
of civil rights, and to possess one of the following qualitications : — Of being or having 
been President of the Congress; Deputy elected in three general elections ; Minister of 
the Crown ; President of the Council ox State, of the supreme tribunal, or of the upper 
tribunal of accounts ; captain-general of the army, or admiral, lieutenant-general, or 
vice-admiral; ambassador; councillor of States magistrate of the supreme tribunals; 



To frame a list of senators which would command the confidence 
of the country^ North and South, would not, I think, be difficult, 
but I prefer to indicate the sources from which a competent Senate 
nught be obtained rather than to name individuals without their 
authority. In my opinion it should include two archbii^ops or 
bishops of the Catholic and Protestant C'lmrches respectively, a 
Presbyterian minister who has been Moderator of the Gteneral 
Assembly, the Provost of the Dublin University, the President of 
Maynooth College, a representative of the Royal University, and 
two or more judges of the Supreme Court in whose discretion and 
disposition the nation has confidence.^ Among the Irish peerage 
there are more than a dozen who have either pronounced for the 
principle of Home Rule or are not hostile to it if a fair scheme be 
devised, and they have the first right to be senators. Men who 
have conducted industrial enterprises successfully, who have serred 
in Parliament with distinction, manufacturers from Belfast, merchants 
from Cork, and the pick of the legal, medical, and engineer profes- 
sions would find a natural place there. And there are men who have 
none of these official claims but who have moral claims ; whose 
character and life fit them for the duty of being arbitrators between 
the majority and the minority. Those who understand Ireland au 
fond know that it would not l>e difficult to name exceptional men, 
not belonging to the higher but to the middle class, who enjoy the 
confidence of large sections of the nation, and who might be counted 
on as confidently as the highest magnate in Church or State to 
resist injustice to any man or interest. To the popular Chamber we 
send advocates, to the Senate we ought to scud umpires and judges. 
If it be constituted in the manner suggcstcil, of men of acknowledged 
capacity, integrity, and services, who rc])re8ciit the sense and expe- 
rience of the community, and possess its confidence, its decisions in 
all cases of difficulty would be received by the people in the same spirit 
that the household acknowledges the authority of the puUnfamilias, 
To anticipate misapprehensions, I may note that calling ecclesiastics 
to legislative duties is far from being a novelty. In England the 
bishops of the National Church constitute one of the three Estates 
of the realm. In Austria the prelates of the Catholic Church and 
the Greek Ohurch sit side by side in the Upper Chamber of the 
Reichsratfa, and in Hungary in the House of Magnates, In the 
Bavarian Senate there is a Catholic bishop and a Protestant clergy- 
man selected by the King, and in Wurtemburg ministers of the two 

assessor of the tribunal of accounts, or minister plcuipotcntiar}^ during two years ; sreh^ 
bishop or bishop ; rector of a university ; president of one of the Spanish aesdemies of 
bistoiy of moral and political sciences, of exact sciences, and of medical sctencc; 
i]isp«cfior*generaI of the body ot civil engineers ; provincial deputy four times ; or, 
ikud^ alwde in districts exceeding 30,000 souls. 

• The Catholic Bishops refused to act in Australia, and woiildi periu^ refuse here ; 
bat their aid would be mveltiable. 


Churches are elected by their respective congr^ations, and in Saxony 
the heads of the chief 'collegiate institutions, Protestant and Catholic, 
are called to the Senate. 

The House of Lords is responsible for the antipathy to a second 
Chamber which doubtless exists, and if we could only have a second 
Chamber as arrogant and intractable as that body has proved on the 
chief Irish questions of the last half-century, the antipathy would 
be well founded. But the Senate of the United States is a more 
skilled and energetic public servant than the House of Representa- 
tives, and in many European and colonial States the Senate 
answers fairly well the purpose of a Court of Appeal on disputed 
questions, and is rarely an impediment to wise legislation. But I 
am far from desiring to leave a possible danger to a sentimental 
remedy. There was a clause in Mr. Gladstone's Bill providing for 
calbs of protracted difference between the two orders, by which it 
was directed that, when the disagreement lasted for three years, the 
question should be submitted to the orders voting together, and 
adopted or rejected according to the decision of the majority so 
voting. This clause provided effectually against the possibility of a 
dead-lock, and it might be strengthened if an absolute majority " 
of the united body, not merely a majority of those voting on the 
occasion, were required to decide the question in dispute. At the 
joint sitting of such a Legislative Assembly and Senate as I propose 
one hundred and fifty-seven members could vote, of whom eighty 
would constitute an absolute majority. If eighty members of a 
legislature so constituted approved of a proposal, it may safely be 
assumed that it would be one whicJi inflicted no injustice — if they 
rejected it it would be only because there were such solid objections 
either against the measure, or against its immediate adoption, as 
ought to prevail. 

But the securities against rash legislation do not end here. After 
all these precautions there is another turnpike gate to pass. You 
qpmnot create an Act of Parliament without the Royal Assent, and in 
all statutory Parliaments the veto is kept alive. In British Colonies 
it is used rarely, but it is used imperatively whenever the necessity 
arises. Not one Bill in many hundreds is reserved for the Queen's 
pleasure," but in certain specific cases the Governor's instructions 
require him to exercise this prerogative, and he does so invariably. 
The veto is doubtless a limitation upon the powers of a Legislature, but 
in England the Queen is limited, the House of Lords is limited, and the 
House of Commons is limited by law, though the three acting together 
arc omnipotent. A latent power, which slumbers and is forgotten 
till an adequate occasion calls it into activity, restrains just legislation 
no more than the existence of capital punishment in the criminal 
law controls the ordinary life of a citizen ; and the same principle 



would prevail in Ireland under Eesponsible Government which prevails 
in Australia^ America, and South Africa, the freest of free countries. 

Though nominated senators have found favour in the bulk of modern 
States, a right might be reserved in the Constitution for the Irish 
Parliament at the end of ten, or at latest twenty, years to change 
to an elective system. By that time urban and rural municipalities 
would probably cover the entire country, and to these bodies, trained 
in public affairs, the choice of senators might be safely entrusted if 
an elective system should be preferred. In the great colony of New 
South Wales, however, where our countrymen are more than a third 
of the population, the same right was reserved, but has never been 
exercised ; the system of nomination being permanently retained. 

The Executive Government springing from such a Legislature 
would naturally resemble it in fairness and moderation. The Cana- 
dians, who had the identical difficulty which exists in Ireland to fa- 
counter, who had to govern on the same soil two races divided by 
religion and historic memories, took measures worthy of imitation. 
They began by making peace at home. I met in London the dele- 
gates sent over to negotiate the present (Constitution of the Dominion ; 
they consisted of the leader of the French Ilabitans, the leader of 
the English and Irish Orangemen, the leader of the Conservatives, 
and the leader of the Irish Canadians. The basis of such a coalition 
necessarily was to respect each other's rights, and shelter them from 
the possibility of invasion. In the tirst (Government, and in all 
which have followed down to this day, care has been taken to make 
^ the Cabinet as representative as the Legislature. It not only included 

Y rotestants, Catholics, and Presbyterians, but one or more members 
ere selected from each province of the Dominion, so that its opinions 
and })mterests would have a watchful guardian at the centre of authority. 
The an^ngement docs not rest upon any law or compact, or on any 
hard-aud'fS^st rule, but on a good understanding among public men ; 
and the exiU^ig Administration, after the Dominion has lasted for 
twenty years aiKJ witnessed various changes of Government, consists 
of six Catholics aiM eight Protestants (including ^-piscoj)allans, Pres- 
byterians, and Mctli^dists under that denomination' who have been 
selected from Ontario, ^^iucbcc, Xova Seotia, and New* Brunswick 
according to their importance. A system substantially similar 
exists in the United States, \wherc members of the Cabinet are selected 
from the Soutliern and Wests'll as well as from the more powerful 
Northern States. In Australia^^ after the great dividing questions 
had been settled, coalition Oovcrnbmcnt became the practice; and the 
best men, instead of striving agaiit^t each other, found it possible to 
pul! together for a common end. TChese are persuasive examples for 
Ireland. V\ hiie an Established OhurwDi and an iniquitous Land Code 
existed, such a Gov ernment would have &>ccn impossible. But religious 



equality is now all but established ; and if the land question were 
settled there is no reason why the national Government, like a national 
Parliament^ should not be a coalition from the beginning. It is under 
a Government of such a mixed character that the country would be 
most tranquil and contented, and the labour of public men be least 
diverted from practical- work to barren contentions. Responsible 
government — the honourable ambition of success in public life — would 
not suffer; for men are so constituted that where they agree on the 
end to be attained, they are rarely agreed on the method of attaining 
it. In Canada an honourable man is at the head of the Government, 
surrounded by the representatives of different districts and interests ; 
and an equally honourable man — as far as a stranger can judge — is at 
the head of the Opposition, surrounded by other representatives of 
the same interests and districts, ready to replace the Minister when 
public opinion falls away from him. Parliament is divided into 
parties, not into faction^. The leader of the Government is a Scotch 
Protestant, warmly supported by Canadian and Irish Catholics ; and 
the leader of the Opposition is an Irish Protestant, largely supported 
by a party which includes Upper and Lower Canadians, Presbyterians, 
Protestants, and Catholics. A statesman who had to form a Cabinet 
entrusted with the task of inaugurating Hbme Rule in Ireland would 
not, if he were worthy of his position, constitute it merely of political 
gladiators or successful rhetoricians, as sometimes happens in England ; 
but, having regard to the necessities of the case, he would select men 
skilled in the permanent interests of the country, and including all the 
races and classes ’which constitute the Irish nation. If Canada can 
do this, if Australia can do this, Tvhy is it forbidden to us? 

The permanent staff must be in accord with the Cabinet and with 
national opinion. Nearly two hundred years ago Swift pronounced it 
to be an intolerable grievance that Englishmen should be employed 
almost exclusively in the public service of Ireland, and the intolerable 
grievance has not ceased to this day. But we ought to deal forbear- 
ingly with a long-rooted wrong. Some of the Irishmen in the public 
service in England might be willing to effect an exchange with 
Englishmen of the same rank in Ireland ; a few might receive retiring 
allowances at once, for Ireland is greatly over-officered ; and we could 
accept the remainder for the sake of the Drummonds and Hamiltons 
whom the class produced. Except in a few confidential offices no change 
would be absolutely essential. Where there are statesmen of strong 
will and definite purpose the permanent staff is simply an instrument 
in their hands ; it receives its impulse from above as unrcssstingly as 
the train from the engineer. I can say — for I have made the experi- 
ment — that a Government may accept a staff appointed and trained 
by its adversaries and find it pliable as a glove. As respects future 
appointments and promotions, they might be advantageously removed 

VOL. Lll. Z 



from political influence. The Imperial Governmeut has relinquished 
the bulk of employments by substituting compP^titive examination for 
ministerial patronage^ and the GoTernment of Victoria has placed 
the entire service under a Commission strictly enjoined by law to 
promote officers only for character, capacity, and service, never for 
private or political considerations. Public men will lose nothing by 
the change, for the most embarrassing, the most invidious, and the 
most thankless of their duties is to distribute offices and regulate 
promotion. '^The implacable enemies of a Government,” an experienced 
statesman once said to me, " are not the candidates for office for whom 
we have done nothing, but those for whom we have done less than they 

The functions of the titular head of the Government, the Lord 
Lieutenant, cannot be made too closely identical with those of the 
Governor of a great colony. There are precedents and warnings, 
and much valuable experience, to regulate a Governor’s conduct 
towards his Ministers and Parliament while the relation of the 
Viceroy to an Irish Parliament is one which it will be discreet to 
forget. Mr. Gladstone's Bill proposed to remove tlie last of the 
insulting restrictions of the Emancipation Act, which forbade him to 
be a Catholic. That it should still need to be removed is one of the 
most significant illustrations of English rule in Ireland. In Turkish 
dependencies the Great Powers compel the Sultan to appoint only a 
Christian as Governor, to content the majority, lii Ireland the 
exactly opposite system exists to this day : the (irovernor must not 
be a Catholic. But in truth it is mainly a question of sentiment. 
Under responsible Government it is of little more importance who is 
Viceroy than who is Lord Mayor of Dublin. All real authority 
resides in l^arliament, and to constitute Parliament fairly is the one 
solid and sufficient guarantee. 

The Constitution Statute might remove certain questions from 
controversy, as similar instruments have done in other communities, 
either by recognizing them as fundamental conditions of the pact, or 
by settling them on a permanent basis. It might declare, for example 
— (I.) That the Sovereign or Regent de facto of England shall be 
Sovereign or Regent of Ireland ; (II.) That complete religious equality 
shall exist among all citizens before the law, and that it shall not 
be lawful to submit to either House, or lawful for the Viceroy to 
assent to any proposal giving to any Church a concession which the 
other Churches do not equally enjoy. 

Beligious equality is specifically recognized in the Constitutions 
of the United States, of Belgium, and of Canada, and implicitly in 
many Staths of Europe. The language of the American Constitution 
is simple and sufficient : Congress shall make no law respecting an 
establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof” 



“ No religious test shall .ever be required as a qualification to any ofiice 
or public trust under the United States.” In Canada the property 
of religious minorities is strictly protected by the Constitution; the 
Protestants being in a minority in lower Canada^ the Catholics in 
Upper Canada. No one can feel less disposed than I am to refer to 
the Imperial Legislature any Act of the Irish Parliament ; but Canada 
has made one exception^ and I think we also might make the same 
one. I do not believe there is the slightest risk that religious liberty 
would be infringed ; but here is a clause of the Canadian Constitution 
which renders infringement impossible in that country, and would 
render it impossible here : 

“That whenever any Bill or Bills shall be passed by the Houses of Parlia- 
ment in Canada .... which shall contain any provisions which f?haH in any 
manner relate to or affect the enjoyment ore:cercise of any form or mode of religious 
worships or sljall impose or create any penalties, burdens, disabilities, or dis- 
qualifications, in respect of the same, or relate to other matters regarding 
religious worship, every such Bill or Bills shall, previously to any declaration 
or signification of Her Majesty’s assent thereto, be laid before both Houses of 
PavUiuruent of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland : and it shall 
not be lawful for Her Majesty to signify her royal assent until thirty days 
after the same shall have been laid before the said Houses, or to assent to any 
such Bill or Bills, in case either House of Parliament shall, within the said 
thirty days, address Her Majesty to withhold her assent therefrom.” 

III. A schedule of the Statute might fix the number of Ministers 
and their salaries, but leave a power to the Legislature to vary the 
offices at discretion, provided the sum granted for the service be not 
exceeded. It might fix the salaries of the President of the Senate, 
the Speaker of the House of Assembly, the Judges, and other high 
functionaries, as a permanent appropriation, removed from annual dis- 
cussion ; such fundamental principles and schedule not to be capable 
of repeal or modilication, except by a majority of two-thirds of both 
Houses. This has been done in the Australian Constitutions. 

Fixing the salaries would have one great advantage — the public 
expeuditure from the beginning might be framed on a moderate and 
economical scale. Official salaries in Ireland were settled in England, 
and are out of all proportion to the incomes of the professions or the 
earnings of industry. In Holland, Belgium, and Switzerland they 
proceeded on a different system ; salaries are moderate, but they are 
sufficient, because the general scale of living is on a rational basis. 
The enjoyments of life are more common, and there is less habitual 
poverty in any of these countries than in England, but there are no 
great incomes. A Dutch, Flemish, or Swiss gentleman has not one- 
third of the income of a landowner or official in Ireland, but he has 
all the solid enjoyments of life in a larger proportion. We must fix 
our living on a moderate scale. The happiest and most prosperous 
countries in Europe are not those where a standing army of officials 
is maintained at a large cost, but those where the State does little more 

z 2 



than refund the outlay incurred in performpg public duties. In 
Switzerland a Minister ot State receives a smaller salary than the 
despatch clerk who posts the letters of the same functionary obtains 
in London. The honour of serving the country is recognised as an 
adequate reward. The State spends liberally, even profusely, on educa- 
tion, and economically for all other purposes! This may be too heroic 
a model for imitation within hail of Loudon, but, at any rate, it indi- 
cates the direction in which wc should aim from the beginning. 

IV. As a written Statute will need to be interpreted in cases of 
difficulty, a Court of three judges might be named in the Act on 
whom this power would be conferred. It would not be impossible 
to name three whose fairness or fitness would not be called in question 
by any reasonable Irishman. The j^rovisiou in Mr. Gladstone's 
Bill referring disputed questions to a Privy Council in which all 
parties are represented, is not satisfactorv. It would not secure a 
judicial decision, but a party conflict and a party triumph. 

Y. The compensation of members of Parliament for the expenses 
incident to the office is the practice in nearly all free countries 
except England. It is provided for in the Constitutions of the 
United States, Belgium, and Canada, and ought to be provided for in 
ours. I have served in Parliament under both systems, and 1 caji 
confidently affirm that, to secure purity and j)ublic spirit, represen- 
tatives must not be required to make inordinate sacrifices. All the 
expenses for election purposes, from the registration of votes to the 
taking of the poll, ought also to be defrayed by the State, as they 
are in many British Colonics. If men are iii\itcd to i)crform grave 
public duties, and expected to perform them uprightly, it is insensate to 
begin by imposing a tax which in effect is the purchase-money of the 
position. To compensate members of the Lower House on a moderate 
scale need not cost more than we pay for the single office of Viceroy ; 
and the example of Congress warns us to fix tlie amount in the Con- 
stitution. and not leave it liable to be iu(?rcascd except by such a 
decided majority of both Houses as may be required for other 
fundamental changes. 

There are writers who affirm that gtiarantccs of this nature, or of 
any nature, are useless — not worth the paper they are written upon,^' 
and so forth. But experience bears a different testimony ; they have 
been adopted in many Constitutions in Europe, America, and Australia, 
and have never in any instance proved insufficient. The religious 
equality in the American Statute was assailed by a strong and 
fanatical party called Know-Nothings, but altogether in vain. In 
Canada there are more Orange lodges than anywhere out of Ireland, 
but they cannot touch the guaranteed rights of minorities. The 
V&torian Statute contains a number of " cheeks ” designed, it was 
said, to put a drag on the wheels of democracy. To put an effectual 



brake upon so tremendous a force might well seem hopeless, but it 
did not so prove in action. The “checks” have not been infringed 
or disregarded in a single case, nor has any individual right, however 
odious or unpopular with the majority, been violated. 

Under such a Legislature and Executive it 'would be impossible, I 
submit, to work any gra ^e injustice ; and if so, they ought to possess, 
and would be fit to exercise, all the power enjoyed by the Parlia- 
ments and Governments of the great colonies. 1 have sat in 
colonial Cabinets which appointed judges, controlled the police, and 
advised the exercise of the prerogatives of the CroAvn, and in a 
Legislature which made laws in and for the colony in all cases 
whatever,” appropriated its revenues according to law, and distributed 
its patronage through Ministers possessing their confidence.* I 
belonged to a minority of the population as small in proportion to the 
whole as the Protestant minority in Ireland ; but representative 
men of the majority and minority found no difficulty in acting 
cordially together. The imperial army and navy, while an imperial 
army w^as maintained in the colonies, were at the orders of the 
Government iu London ; but all the agencies for maintaining public 
order were necessarily under the control of the men responsible for 
it. That community would not have endured, and no community 
* ought to endure, the creation of a judiciary placed above the laws of 
the country in which they live. If they were men of the most up- 
right character it would be an intolerable oligarchy, and if they were 
not, it might become an unendurable tyranny. I have lived too long 
away from Ireland to speak with complete knowledge of the existing 
Bench, but thirty years ago many of the Irish judges were partisans 
scarcely less pronounced than the men who outraged law and decency 
in the interest of the Stuarts. Lord Beaconsfield, in his Life of Lord 
George Bentinck, describes how they were sometimes appointed. 
Peel, he says (in substance), got rid of a parliamentary bore and bigot 
by sending him to the Irish Bench. This was Mr. Lefroy ; and 
Messrs. Pennefather and Blackburue, men of much larger capacity, 
were as far removed from the ideal judge. An independent judiciary 
is an essential guarantee for personal and publib liberty; but a judge 
in Ireland must exercise his great trust under the same conditions 
as in England. To maintain him in office, if he should incur the 
censure of both Houses of Parliament for a grave delinquency, would 
be an outrage on national feeling and public liberty. There is no 
man of the Irish race more willing and ready than I am to sign the 
conditions of a permanent peace ; but I would rather face the twenty 
years of despotism foreshadowed with brutal plainness of late than 
see Irishmen accept, as a settlement of our claims, judiciary which 
could defy the two Houses of the Irish Parliament. 

If the two nations were agreed upon the functions and limitations of 



an Irish Constitution, there are three or four collateral questions which 
ought to be settled at the same time, and b/ the same authority, in 
order that the new Legislature may be relieved from exasperating 
controversy. The most weighty and urgent of these questions is the 
fiscal one. Mr. Gladstone insists, as one of the fundamental conditions 
of Home Rule, that there shall be an equitable distribution of imperial 
burthens, and it is a proviso of manifest justice. Unfortunately, the 
question is not only a very serious, but a very complicated one, I 
will not embarrass this project of a Constitution by a financial con- 
troversy, but it is necessary to state some of the points on which 
careful preliminary inquiry is essential to such a distribution of the 
imperial burthens as shall be fair and final. 

Persons of competent knowledge contend that the most iniquitous 
provisions of the Union were those relating to taxation ; and it is 
not difiicult to believe that when a nation was held down by armed 
force, and comi)elIed to accept an agreement at the point of the 
bayonet, her pocket was rifled at the close of the performance. In 
1800 England paid nearly sixty millions sterling as annual interest on 
her national debt, and Ireland paid little over one million as interest 
on an Irish debt created by the English officials in Dublin Castle, and 
spent chiefly in the systematic corruption and final purchase of the 
Irish Parliament. It was provided by the Act of Union that thost' 
debts should remain separate, and that any surplus of Irish revenue 
should be applied to Irish purposes after paying this interest, and a 
contribution to imperial expenditure founded on the relative ability 
of the two countries. The relative ability was estimated at : to 
yV, It has always been held that Ireland was crushed to prostra- 
tion by the unfair burthen imposed on her by that settlement. Hie 
leaders of the party of Protestant ascendancy insisted at the time that 
her ability was deliberately over-estimated by taking as data the 
exports and imports of exceptional years, and omitting fr6m the 
account certain permanent sources of income. The Irish peers, who 
entered on the minutes of Parliament a protest against the Union, 
reiterated this complaint, and it has never been abandoned. During 
OTonnell^s Repeal agitation and Mr. Butt's Home Rule movement, 
skilled financiers contended that there was a gross error in the capital 
account of the partnership which threw upon Ireland a burthen not 
only beyond her just proportion of the imperial cxpcnditure,iabut 
beyond her power to endure. If this allegation be well founded, 
Ireland for nearly ninety years has been paying her prosperous 
partner interest on a fictitious debt, as a struggling tradesman pays 
an exacting money-lender interest upon an advance which he has 
never received. ^ 

The necessary result of imposing on a community taxes which it 
i^eould not pay was an annual deficit. If a man whose income is 


.€1000 a year be required to pay €1,200, however provident and 
economical he may b^; he will make a debt of €200 a year ; and this 
is what befell Ireland. When this perpetually recurring deficiency 
made it manifest that the ability of the country to bear taxes had 
been overrated, the Imperial Government, instead of re-adjusting the 
account, proceeded as* the usurious money-lender does with the 
struggling tradesman — they created nominal loans to pay the deficit ; 
loans of which Ireland never received a penny, or any other benefit, 
except a receipt for arrears which it is contended she did not owe. 

These loans raise another question. It was provided by the Act 
of Union that any loan contracted after that date should be on the 
joint account of the two countries ; the interest to be paid in the same 
proportion as the imperial expenditure. But in violation of this 
provision these loans were made a purely Irish debt, and the interest 
charged exclusively to the Irish account. We are familiar with this 
policy in Ireland ; it is the same which a rack-renting landlord 
applies to his estate ; he imposes a rent which cannot be paid, and 
keeps alive the fictitious arrears as an instrument of oppression. 
After sixteen years of this system, the specific object for which, 
according to experienced financiers, it was invented, was accomplished. 
The debt accumulated in the name of Ireland was made a pretence 
for amalgamating thb Exchequers of the two countries, and Ireland 
became responsible from that time forth for the enormous national 
debt of England, from which the Treaty of Union professed to protect 
her for ever. It is idle to set down in figures the claim arising from 
this injustice. We cannot enforce it, and it is worth nothing if it be 
not frankly recognized as a proper subject of inquiry and settlement. 
If the claim be a just ^one a great nation would scorn, I think, to 
plead a Statute of Limitation in bar of it. It would abundantly pay 
the British nation in more than money to treat our claim as it treated the 
Alabama claim, with prodigality rather than parsimony. The simplest 
recipe, indeed, for making the connection permanent and fraternal is 
for England to negotiate with Ireland as she would negotiate with the 
United States or the German Empire. 

When the Exchequers were amalgamated the war with Napoleon 
was over, and reduction of taxation commenced. It is contended 
that these reductions have always been made in the interest of 
England and to the disadvantage of Ireland. At the outset, for every 
hundred pounds of remission granted to England, Ireland obtained a 
remission of about twenty shillings. The expenditure of the joint 
revenue has been a constant source of remonstrance. It is in- 
evitable that it should be greatest near the capital of the empire, but 
the disproportion was pushed to an inordinate extent. In 1844 a 
case was submitted to Parliament showing in every branch of dis- 
bursement Ireland's share as unfairly small. One instance will 




sufficiently illustrate the case. In the Naval Estimates, framed for 
the protection of the two islands, for every ^pound spent in that 
part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland called 
Ireland/' six hundred pounds were spent in (M*cat Britain. If this 
wrong does not admit of any specific redress, it may Kelp at any rate 
to determine the spirit of compensation in Y^Aich the account ought 
to be considered if we are to arrive at a just settlement. 

The statesmen responsible for these wrongs are dead, and if they 
be all written off as bad debts, there is a new claim, beginning with 
the lifetime of the present generation, which is still an open account. 
Since the famine of 18 Ki, when the working people lost sixteen 
millions sterling by the failure of the potato, there has hee^ a 
constant emigration, and while population and resources diminished, 
imperial statesmen have steadily increased the burden of taxation. 
A single fact, which is ])erhaps the most marvellous in the marvellous 
history of Ireland, sums up the ca>c : the ]»opiilation is less than half 
what it was wlicn the famine commenced, and the taxation is more 
than doubli‘ wliat it was at that ]>eriotl. A parliamentary return, 
published ill 18G0, exhibits the constantly increasing burthen per head 
borne by the Irish people for the twenty years for nhidi the account 
was furnished : 

IVipnlatinn. Taxation. , '1 axatum jior head. 

1841 . . .''.I'.'O.of? ... .£4.i:..s,(;77 ... A'c !-• 1 

187)1 . . (;.:)74.-27.S ... (I 13 3 

1801 . . r),7y.H,!)G7 ... (;.7‘.t2.oo(; ... 135 

This,^^ says a contemporary critic, “ is the cube riK>t of the Irish 
question.*^ It may be supposed that the burthens of Ungland in- 
creased in the same proportion, and that Ireland only boie her share 
in the partnership liability. Jbit the fact was very different. The 
complaint of a prodigious inequality w as constantly insi.sted upon and 
was pressed as strongly by Tories and Unionists as by Nationalists ; 
the following incisive statement of it is the work of one of Lord 
Hartington’s warmest supporters in the Liberal Union — 

** The annual income of Great Britain, calculated by the best 
English authorities, is over eight hundred millions (XH(X), 000,000). 
The annual income of Ireland, calculated in the same manner, is 
under forty-eight millions (I8,0(X),000). Ireland pays each year in . 
imperial taxes eight millions (8,000,000), or three shillings and four- 
pence out of every pound of her income. Great Britain pays sixty- 
seven millions (07,000,000), or one shilling and ciglitpcnce out of 
every pound of her income. If Ireland contributed to the imperial 
revenue in proportion to her relative ability, she would pay a very 
little more Aan four millions; she docs j)ay more than eight/' 

* Mr. Mitchell Hei3»y, forint rJy inciiiLcr of I’arliamcnt for Oalway and mora 
recently Unicauat candidate for Glasgow. * 


The same writer, an experienced man of business, contends that in 
the thirty years ending^n 1883 the National Debt was reduced by a 
hundred millions, mahlly to improve the securities in which wealthy 
Englishmen invest, and that ninety millions of this sum were extracted 
by undue taxation from Ireland. In one generation we paid, he 
insists, nearly half the * indemnity imposed upon France by her 
(ierman conqueror. 

But the case docs not rest on the testimony of Irish experts. The 
• most eminent of English statisticians, Mr. Giffen, Financial Secretary 
of the Board of Trade, has distinctly declared that in latter years 
Ireland has contributed ttrice her proper .share to the Imperial 
Mx^quer. “ Ireland,” he says, " while constituting only about a 
iwcmticth part of the United Kingdom in resources, nevertheless 
j)ays a tenth or eleventh of the taxes. Ireland ought to pay about 
L'3,500,000j she ])ays nearly .L 7,000, 000.” Another financial critic 

ilcclares that “ Ireland, tlie ]>oorcst country in Europe, pays into the 
Imperial Exchequer one-sixth of her annual income, while Great 
Britain, the richest country in the world, pays just one-twelfth.” 

It cannot be disputed that this is a case which demands inquiry. 
It is not a sentimental grie\ancc, M'hich may be dismissed with other 
forgotten wrongs belonging to the dead past, but a practical one, 
altogether outside of party and which will largely determine the 
luturc fortune of the country. To borrow an illustration ‘from the 
land question, the rent paid on an estate is the principal datum in 
determining the value of the freehold ) if the rent be too high, the 
purchase of the j)ropcrty uill be a bad and may be a ruinous 
bargain. In the same way the permanent contribution which 
Ireland must make to imperial purposes (after the establishment of a 
separate Parliament) will be determined on the basis of past con- 
tributions, and if they be accepted without inquiry, we may be again 
loaded with a burthen beyoud our strength. Finance is the life- 
blood of a State, and under inordinate depiction it bleeds to death. 
The wisest native Government cannot make a country prosperous if 
it is bound to pay away its earnings to satisfy excessive claims. A 
Royal Commission of competent financiers must inquire and report 
on this subject. The profound confidence which the Irish people 
have in the good intentions of Mr. Gladstone persuaded them to 
accept his financial proposals without inquiry. But there is time 
for inquiry now, and the result may repay them for all the vexation 
which the delay of a settlement has imposed. The inquiry must be 
now or never. "Whatever settlement we accej)t must be borne un- 
flinchingly, on pain of Ireland being represented as a repudiator at 
the outset of licr career. The disestablishment of the Irish Chtirch 
furnishes a salutary warning. That settlement will necessarily and 
properly be protected from disturbance for ever in the Irish Con- 



stitution^ and yet it is one which no Irish Parliament would have 
made. It was resolved to establish religious^equality in Ireland^ but 
to propitiate British prejudice it was establijihed by giving all the 
churches^ all the glebes and glebe lands^ and ^ the bulk of the funds 
to the minority, to re-endow their Church. One single ruined 
edifice which the minority never used nor claimed — the historic Bock 
of Cashel — a separate Bill proposed to convey to the Catholics, and 
the House of Lords indignantly rejected the proposal. A single 
settlement of account like this is enough for a century,* 

Next in importance after the fiscal cru.x comes the laud question. 
There is a universal consensus that this angry controversy must not 
be cast like a firebrand into the midst of the new Legislature, aad no 
party now objects to the purchase of the proprietors’ rights at area- ^ 
sonable price. It is only the security for the necessary advance that 
is any longer in debate. Mr. Gladstone’s original proposal was to my 
thinking substantially just; but leading men among his supporters 
and his opponents refuse to impose any liability on the British 
taxpayer. Their theory of public duty is not intelligible to me. 
They admit the claim for protection which the landlords whom they 
planted in Ireland by confiscating the rights of the native owners 
have upon them, but they repudiate the corresponding responsibility. 
As the wrongs which must be remedied arc confessedly of their 
creation it is difficult to understand how they are justified in 
refusing to make any sacrifice towards righting them. It is 
not so that other nations have interpreted their duty. Austria 
and Russia, for example, turned their tenants into freeholders, and the 
State advanced the entire purchase-money, and collected it by annual 
instalments from the occupiers. Whether this be done in Ireland 
is a question of .slight importance to the tenant, but of high import- 
ance to the landlord ; .for the interest saved by an imperial guarantee 
would go to swell the purchase-money, with groat gain to the seller and 
without the loss of a penny to the purchaser. I cordially wish it were 
done, and I am persuaded it could be done without injury to anybody. 
But if the ImjXirial Parliament is determined to be bountiful d bon 
marchc, there happily remains a valid security in the guarantee of such 
a Government and Legislature as 1 have prefigured. Their credit would 
probably be, and would certainly deserve to be, as good as that of any 
State in Europe, and the repayment might be made a first change on 
the national revenue. But there is one device I trust we shall 

* I tmst statement of fact w-iH not be nderstood as spiiAging from any 
Sentiment of bigotry. Tltere could not |>o.Hsib]y be a greater mistake. 1 saw the dis* 
establishment of the Irish Church with exultation, because it removed a barrier which 
dtrided Irishmeu on the national question ; but 1 desired it to be accomplished, as far as 
unusable, without injury to a Inxly of Irish gentlemen and their families, who had 
derived their j^^mitiou from settled law ; and I have had the happiness of knowing, in 
many parts of the world, some of the manliest young men and most onitivated and 
charming young women, often passionate bvers of Lreland, who were bom in Irish 



hear of no more ; thci method of putting in a receiver on behalf 
of the Imperial Gove^^nment is offensive ai^ humiliating^ and 
would bring the credit of the country at the outset into un- 
deserved contempt. Tiie record of the Irish farmers does not justify 
exceptional precautions; they have discharged their liabilities to 
the State with commendable punctuality. The Loan Fund 
in the latest report which has fallen under my notice had practically 
no arrears. The advances for the improvement of land were repaid 
in a slovenly manner by landlords, but with singular regularity by 
tenants,, Their latest obligations are those incurred under the Purchase 
of Land Act^ 1885, and I have inquired how that account stands. 
The^nswer furnishes very useful and significant evidence for our 
present controversy. Of 1320 instalments of purchase money due in 
November 1880, all but one were duly paid. Of 1750 instalments 
for the current year, due in May last, 1033 were paid up to July, 
and 117 were in course of collection. What State in Europe can 
show a better balance-sheet than this ? It is contended, indeed, that 
an unmanageable difficulty would arise when the State had to 
deal, not with a few hundred, but with many thousand debtors; 
but it is a difliculty which has been successfully encountered elsewhere. 
When it was my duty, as Minister of Public Lands, to frame a Land 
system for the colony of \’ictoria I desired to give the settlers the 
benefit of deferred payments, without which poor men could not 
become purchasers. I procured official information on kindred ex- 
periments in the I’nited States, as well as in Canada and other 
British colonies, and the result was sufficiently disheartening. The 
colonial settlers were i)ermitted to hold the land they selected at a 
quit-rent, and the quit-rent was never in any case successfully 
collected. In Canada, New Brunswick, and Trinidad scarcely a 
shilling of the debt was paid. In the United States in 1820, Presi- 
dent Munroe reported that upwards of twenty-two millions of dollars 
were due to the Treasury, and recommended some indulgence to the 
debtors. In the end Congress abolished the credit system, and 
ordered lands to be sold at a low price, but for cash only ; and it 
provided for the extinguishment of the existing debt by enabling 
purchasers to receive a discharge on relinquishing a part of their 
lands proportionate to the debt to the State which remained unpaid. 
All these difficulties the Government of Victoria evaded by adopting 
a new principle. They determined to enlist the self-respect and self- 
interest of the settlers on the side of the law, and instead of being 
exacted as an annual rent, the yearly payments were credited as 
instalments of the purchase money. But the settler was not per- 
mitted to exercise the most important power of a proprietor ; to 
transfer or mortgage the land, for example, till the last instalment 
of the purchase money was paid. This system has been in operation 


nearly a quarter of a century ; more land has passed and is passing 
under it than ue sl^l have to sell in Ireland, and th^ annual pay<> 
ments have been made with wonderful punctuality. In fact, the 
farmers were more impatient to complete the purchase than the 
!<tate, that they might become entitled to exercise the rights of 
proprietorship. Here is a case which can to tested by all concerned ^ 
as the statistics of Metoria arc kept with remarkable accuracy, and I 
challenge inquiry. Tlic i)opiilation it dealt with was in a large pro- 
portion Irish, and the experiment has been completely successful. 
Some alarmists feared at the outset that the existence of a vast 
class of public creditors who had votes would tend to create 
a party in Parliament pledged to reduce their burthen. Had^ the 
danger arisen, it would have been met efibctiially by making the 
payment of the current annual instalment a condition of exercising the 
franchise, so that defaulters would have no representatives. Put it 
did not arise. 1 represented several agricultural districts in succession, 
and I was not once asked to modify the terms of payment imposed upon 
selectors. Tlie bargain w’as a fair aiul advantageous one, and the 
farmers performed their ])art of it bettor, I believe, tlian the clients of 
any merchant or manufacturer in England. Is there any reason why 
the same system applied to Ireland would not produce the same 
result ? I know of none. 

The Catholic bisliops, with true statesman sliip. recently declared 
that the Irish jjeoi)lc do not aim at the confiscation of any species 
of property/^ but its legitimate purchase, and I do net doubt that 
they would gladly sec the necessary change made without W'antou or 
avoidable injury to tlic' existing proprietors. There is one consider- 
able relief which the law could give, and I think ought to give them. 
Family settlements should be subject rain to tlie reduction which 
rents and the general value of the freehold have undergone. Take 
the settlement of a single property as an illustration. A father 
entails his estate on his eldest son, and charges it w itli a jointure for 
his own widow, and with capital suras, bearing four or five per cent, 
interest, as portions for younger sons and daughters. When the heir 
comes into possession, the property is perhaps still lialilc for a mort- 
gage by his grandfather to provide for his younger children, leaving 
about fifty per cent, of the annual income to the present proprietor. 
The Land Court reduces the rental fivc-ancLtwenty per cent., and the 
fall of prices snatches away twenty per cent. more. The cost of col- 
lection and management is at least five per cent., and by the operation 
of irresistible causes the entire income of the proprietor is sometimes 
snatched away, and he has nothing to bequeath to his heir. Can it be 
donbted that if the father and grandfather were still living, and had to 
make the settlements anew, they would reduce the provision for 
the younger children in proportion to the reduction of the gross income ? 



Would it be contrary lb public policy or private justice if the law 
made this settlement f(y them ?* The loss/ it seems to me, should not 
fall on one person cxciius